Battling Demons
by 4runners
Summary: Post series 6- Martin accepts that he must change if he wants to be with Louisa, and to do so he must face the inner demons that have dogged him since childhood. All characters and story lines belong to Buffalo Pictures.
1. Chapter 1

The procedure had been textbook- "Ellingham textbook". Martin recited his own written words in his head as he conducted the operation, step-by-step. The flood of adrenaline in his system honed his focus on the sterile surgical field in front of him. Only when he had finished tying off the last meticulous knot in the tiny incision in her neck did Martin allow his gaze to be drawn to the face of the lovely woman on the operating table... his beloved wife. He quickly dispensed with the requisite post-operative details before making his exit, fighting to keep his composure. The halls were empty as he made his way toward the surgery changing rooms. Their tiled walls seeming to echo the loneliness that he felt. Loneliness... it had been his almost constant companion for the last five decades. Only Auntie Joan and Louisa had been able to shine a light on that shadow that had pursued him through life. He had already lost one of them and now he was on the verge of losing the other. He slipped into a lavatory stall and quietly closed the door behind him before allowing the tears to fall. His legs trembled under him as relief, the emotions of the last days, and the fatigue from weeks of sleepless nights swept over him.

With Louisa resting comfortably, and having assured himself of the adequacy of the hospital staff, Martin was now on the Truro road making his way back home to Port Wenn. His thoughts turned to James. He would probably be sleeping peacefully by the time he arrived at home. Peace. Martin had yearned for a sense of peace for as long as he could remember. He had always lived with an inner chaos. Something he couldn't explain, brewing just under the surface, often erupting in hurled insults, cantankerous behaviour, and a general intolerance for the foibles of others. Something was wrong with him. Louisa had said she needed a break from him, that she wasn't happy, that she wasn't making him happy. Why couldn't he allow himself happiness? He was sure he could identify with the emotion. That feeling he had when Louisa accepted his first proposal, before leaping into his arms. The feeling that warmed his inner core with an intensity that caused him to squeeze his eyes shut tightly to keep it from escaping. The day that James was born... that sense that his life now had purpose. James and Louisa were the source of his happiness, yet something in him had resurfaced to deny him that happiness.

Martin ruminated about that emotion. He was familiar with negative emotions... anger, hatred, fear. Many of them helped to keep the hostile world out. Positive emotions, however, were a conundrum to him. What purpose did they serve? Didn't they make you more vulnerable? The sense of security, love and belonging that the stays at Joan and Phil's brought to him were, all too soon, replaced by the loathing stares of his parents at home or the fear and sense of abandonment when he was sent back to boarding school. The happiness that he felt when he proposed to Louisa was soon replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss and sadness when she fled from Port Wenn, and him, to go to London. And when James was taken from them by that psychotic Mrs. Tishell... the joy he felt in being a father was overshadowed by the guilt he felt for putting his son in danger, and the fear that he may have lost his precious son forever. Allowing himself to succumb to a positive emotion only seemed to exacerbate the distress of the negative experiences that were sure to follow. The way that a rare warm and sunny day in January seems to whet the sting of the inevitable cold, dank, and grey days, more typical of a Cornish winter, that were sure to lie ahead.

Martin's thoughts drifted to a memory from his childhood. He was with his parents, visiting at his Grandfather Ellingham's home. The adults were involved in a discussion in the kitchen and Martin had been dismissed to entertain himself elsewhere. He roamed the house, looking for something that might keep him busy. He found himself in his grandfather's bedroom. Dappled sunlight coming through the lace curtains drew his attention to the pocket watch lying on the bedside table, its ornately etched gold case casting rays of reflected sunlight to his eager eyes. His grandfather had shown it to him once. The workings inside ticking away a perfectly steady rhythm. So similar to the even lub-dub Martin could hear when he put his ear to the chest of the friendly mongrel that frequented the bins in their backyard. The watch was off limits but Martin wanted so badly to hold it. He had often looked on as his grandfather held it in his hand, fingering it absentmindedly.

Martin had been warned that the watch was not to be touched, but he was alone in the room and the ticking seemed to be beckoning to him as it resonated off the hollow drawer of the table. He glanced quickly at the door, to the empty hallway. He would be very careful. It couldn't hurt anything to just take a quick look. He reached slowly until he could touch the watch case, tracing the etched lines lightly with his small fingertips. The constant movement of the gears emitting a steady rhythm of sound waves through the air where they met with his eardrums, sending signals to his brain. His heart was pounding with the knowledge that his misdeed could be discovered, but oh, how he wanted to see the inner workings of this wonderful little machine. He hesitantly pressed the small button on the side of the watch as he had seen his grandfather do so many times. The cover popped open to reveal an amazing array of miniature gears. Each moving perfectly in sync with the others, like dancers in an elaborately choreographed routine. Each performing their own job flawlessly so that their miniature cogs were kept in perfect alignment. How dependent these little gears were on one another. One small misstep and the entire system would fall out of balance. Martin could resist no longer and picked up the watch and held it in his hand. Is this how his father felt when operating on patients? Cutting through the dermal layers, fascia, and muscle to reveal all those gears in the human body, working together to keep the system in balance.

Martin was so lost in thought that he missed the sound of approaching footsteps. The soft quiet ticking of the watch was interrupted by the thunderous bellowing of his father's voice... "Martin! Put that down!" Startled, Martin let the precious object slip from his fingers onto the wood floor below. He looked down to see the cover laying several feet from the rest of the watch, the gears now lying inert in the case that held them. Lifeless.

A sickening feeling came over Martin. He felt guilt for his misdeed, sadness for the damage that he had caused and then a paralysing fear of the punishment that awaited him. He could see in his father's cold, dark, glare and the crimson shade his face had taken on, that he was more than irate. Martin fought the urge to flee. There was a rustling in the hall and his grandfather appeared in the doorway. A disheartening sense of shame came over Martin. His grandfather was not a warm man but had always had a soft spot for Martin and seemed to appreciate his curiosity and thirst for knowledge. But, he had been clear about what he expected from his grandson and Martin felt he had let his grandfather down. Martin avoided eye contact, keeping his head down and his eyes on the floor, the broken watch staring back at him. "I'm sorry grandfather." The elderly man walked over and quietly stooped to pick up the pieces of the watch. He glanced up at Martin and gave him a small smile. He stood and put his hand on the boy's head. "I know you are," he said as he turned and walked back down the hall. For a fleeting moment, Martin was understood.

Then he felt his father's hand connect with the side of his head. Martin fell to the floor before being yanked upward by his collar. He was dragged down the hallway, through the front door and across the lawn to the storage shed. Martin couldn't see well in the murky dimness of the shed but he could make out the rapid movements of his father's silhouette as he heard the clinking of his belt buckle. "There are consequences when we lose self-control Martin. People get hurt and things get broken." Then he felt the sting of the leather as it raised welts on his small body.

Neither Martin's mother nor father spoke a word during the entire trip home. There was just painful silence. He was almost grateful for the persistent pain left from his punishment in the shed. Even that was better than the apathy that he often lived with. Martin watched as his parents got out of the car and walked to the house. Would they even notice if he just disappeared? The mongrel stray was lolling in the sun on the side lawn. Martin wondered if anyone ever missed it. Did it have a home? He got out of the car and walked over to the dog. The tip of the animals tail bobbed up and down as Martin got close. He laid down on the ground next to the dog and put his ear to its chest. Lub-dub. Martin could picture the intricate workings of the watch.


	2. Chapter 2

As Martin approached Port Wenn, he pulled the car to the side of the road and shifted it into park. Night had fallen over his little village and the front lights of the higglety-pigglety houses spilling down the hillside had been turned on. The moon was creating silvery ripples on the tops of the waves chasing one another into the harbour. How could he have ever considered moving James and Louisa to London? Isn't Port Wenn the place he dreamed of being during those difficult childhood years? This was his safe place, the place he felt wanted. However fleeting his time here may have been, he had considered this place his home. In the end, it was always yanked away from him. Martin shuddered to think of his son ever having to endure what he had for so many years.

The surgery was quiet and dark when he arrived. He found Ruth and James asleep in the boy's room. Martin always thought James looked the picture of innocence when he was dozing and would usually stop to gaze at him if he had to get up in the night. But it was hard not to worry about what the future might bring. Baby James was easy to get along with... quite calm, maybe a little on the quiet side, but in general, an over-all happy little boy. Still, Martin was plagued by doubts about his ability to be a parent to James once the boy was old enough to identify his father's many shortcomings. It delighted Martin to see James' face light up when he entered the room. And his heart swelled with pride when his son struggled to get to his father from someone else's arms. Especially if they happened to be out where others would take notice and comment on the child's clear preference to be with his father. This was an all new experience for Martin, someone who loved him because of who he was, not despite it. Would this all change once James was old enough to know better? Martin grew up knowing he was an embarrassment to his parents. He had spent a lifetime trying to redeem himself, but to no avail. He couldn't bear it if James should grow to look at him with the same disdain that he saw in his mother and father's eyes. He dearly wanted to make both James and Louisa proud, to have their respect. But could he be the man they wanted him to be?

Martin woke the next morning from yet another restless night. His sleep again punctuated by the nightmares that haunted him from childhood. But the sun was shining brightly and he could hear the sweet gurgles and babbles of infant conversation coming from James' room. He wrapped himself in his dressing gown and moved quietly across the hall so as to not disturb Aunt Ruth. James squealed in delight when he saw his father appear in the doorway.

"Good morning James," Martin said in a hushed tone.

As seemed to be a morning ritual of late, the baby grabbed at his father's ears in order to pull his face close enough to gum on his cheek.

"Best get your nappies and clothes and change you downstairs before we wake Aunt Ruth, hadn't we?"

There really wasn't much chance of that... Aunt Ruth slept like the dead. In fact Martin had been known to check her wrist for signs of life a time or two.

James had been dressed for the day and was in his high chair, picking at the chopped banana in his bowl. Ruth entered the kitchen as Martin was putting breakfast on the table... boiled egg, soldiers and tea.

"You know, you would be a dab hand at our B & B, Martin. We will need someone in the kitchen."

Martin cocked his head and gave her a questioning look. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"It seems that while you were off playing surgeon with your wife, Al propositioned me"

Martin peered up at her from his plate. "You two spend far too much time together."

"No, really. He pitched some very interesting ideas to me, well worked out on paper mind you, for turning the farm into a fishing holiday retreat. I was quite impressed actually. It could just possibly work."

"Oh, Aunt Ruth. Don't you think you're a bit too..." Martin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You're just rather busy with your book aren't you?"

Ruth narrowed her eyes at Martin. "You were going to say too old. A- I'm not too old and B- Al would be in charge of running the operation. A lot to plan yet of course, it is still in the beginning stages."

Martin muttered an acknowledging "Hmm".

"Thank you for the phone call last night. I took the liberty of relaying your synopsis of how the surgery had gone on to Morwenna. She said she would cancel your appointments for the rest of the week. Will Louisa be coming home today then?"

"Yes, unless I see something this morning that causes me concern. In fact, I should get upstairs to shower and dress. I hope to be back at the hospital by half eight. I may be able to spare her the indignity of being poked and prodded by the puerile interns that will no doubt be making rounds through her ward."

Ruth scrutinized Martin's face for a few moments, looking for clues as to what her nephew might be feeling about the events of the previous day.

"You know Martin, it makes me very happy that you came to me for help yesterday. I have suspected that Joan left me the farm in hopes that I might make a move down here. I think she didn't want for you to be alone again... no one to talk things through with you know."

"Mmm, well what you said yesterday did give me a lot to think about. I do want to change. I will change. Whatever Louisa needs from me. I can't lose her Aunt Ruth."

"Well Martin, just remember that I am here if you need me. And I have willing ears. It's rather nice for an... a 'busy' lady like me to know that I can still contribute something to this world. You really are an extraordinary individual Martin. Don't sell yourself short, YOU DESERVE LOUISA."

"Mmm... might you be able to watch James for me again today? Things would go much more smoothly for me if you could."

Ruth gave her nephew a crooked grin. "I'd be happy to. I do think I should be getting hazard pay though. Your son nearly took me out when he hurled a purple dinosaur in my direction yesterday."


	3. Chapter 3

A nurse was attending to Louisa when Martin arrived at her ward. His stomach churned with the uncertainty of what would happen next. She glanced over in his direction and gave him a small smile.

"How are you feeling" he asked as he conducted a quick visual inspection of his patient.

"Well my head hurts, I'm a bit tired, but better than I expected."

"Mmm, you could probably go home later on today."

"Rright." Martin could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated before adding, "I mean... you won't be flying anywhere for awhile, but I'm not saying you have to come home."

"Martin, you know this doesn't... doesn't change anything."

"I know"

"I don't want us just to go back and pretend everything's fine."

"I know"

"Or to fall back into the way things were."

Martin tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "Mmm. I agree, I don't want that either."

"Okay?" Louisa sat a bit taller when she heard his words. Was he finally acknowledging that something was wrong? That he... they needed help?

"I'll let you get some sleep," Martin said as he turned to go.

"Martin"

"Yes?"

"Thank you... for comin' after me."

Martin's heart fell as he stood by Louisa's bedside for several moments, not knowing how to respond. Did she understand him? Did she understand him at all? Had he failed so badly as a husband that she didn't understand how deeply he loved her... that she was as important to him as the air he needed to breathe? Of course he came after her. She had seen him take desperate measures for his patients before! But she was so much more than a patient. She was the woman he was so desperately in love with that he had, just weeks ago, vowed to never leave her side. She was his wife! He'd go to the ends of the Earth for her!

Martin felt as though he'd been teetering on an emotional precipice and he was now in danger of going over the edge. Struggling to keep his professional composure, he eked out the words, "You're my patient... and you're my wife", before turning quickly to leave.

Martin retreated to the solitude of his Lexus. Releasing a heavy sigh, he contemplated where he and Louisa were to go next. At least they were finally agreeing on something... they couldn't continue to function the way they had been up to now. He reclined the seat and allowed himself to fall into repose.

Martin was awakened about an hour later by the vibrating of his mobile which he kept in his inside suit pocket. A woman's voice informed him that his wife could be discharged at anytime. "_Well Ellingham, what's it going to be... are you going to put things right or are you going to muck it up again_?"

Louisa was sitting up in her bed, knee's bent and chewing on the end of the pencil in her hand when Martin arrived back at her room. She tentatively flashed him one of her beautiful "Louisa" smiles and his tightly curled fingers relaxed a bit.

"Hello Martin. Someone just stopped in to let me know I can go anytime... care to drive a lady home?"

Martin looked down at the floor shyly. "Yes... Um, certainly. I'll gather your clothes together. Anything else you need?"

"Maybe just to feel your arms around me?"

Martin, only to happy to oblige, embraced her gently.

"Louisa, I know that this has not been a simple lover's quarrel, and that the hug I just gave you won't fix anything. I have bollocksed things up terribly. But I meant what I said... I want to learn to be a better husband."

"Well, I've played a part in this too, Martin. And... it wasn't right for me to run off on you instead of staying here to face our difficulties together. I'm sorry. Now, will you please just take me home, Dr. Ellingham? We can start to sort the other things out tomorrow." She took his face in her hands. "And, just so you know... you're right, that hug didn't fix anything... but it is a very good start."

Neither of them spoke a word for the first ten minutes of the drive home. Louisa gazed out the window at the moorland surrounding them. It looked so lonely and forsaken... much like the man in the seat next to her.

"You know Martin, I haven't given up on us just yet." Martin jumped slightly in his seat when her voice broke the silence in the car.

"We have a lot of things to get figured out. And Martin, you need to find someone you can open up to. I think you have some inner demons that need to be dealt with. It doesn't have to be me... I would love to be the one that you feel you can trust and talk to, but I do understand that you might not be comfortable with that... and I think you need more help than I can give you. You said Ruth gave you the name of someone that might be able to help... I think you should call them, don't you?"

"Mmm."

Some minutes passed before Martin pulled the car to the side of the road and shifted it into park. His eyes focused straight ahead, he took in a slow deep breath before blowing it out.

"Louisa... why did you marry me?"

She gave him a questioning look.

"Well... because you asked me to for one thing. Martin, where is this coming from?"

Martin turned to face her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears.

"When you thanked me at the hospital for coming after you... Louisa, I don't think you understand me... and that's my fault. I've been afraid to admit to you how I feel... I love you Louisa! I love you more than you can possibly know! Sometimes the feeling I get when I'm with you... or when I stand on the surgery terrace and you're at work and I see you outside the school... when you touch me... I've not had that feeling before in my life and it overwhelms me. I get all flummoxed and..."

Martin looked at her with downcast eyes, "Louisa, I want to be able to talk to you, to say all the romantic things you would like to hear. I want to make you happy, but so much of the time I just don't know what you need me to do... to say. I want to learn. But until I get better at this..." He stopped to clear the catch from his throat. "Please... remember that I love you... I always will... and that I have committed myself completely to you... I will never leave you. "

Louisa's eyes grew moist as she stared in disbelief at her normally dispassionate husband. "Martin Ellingham, I so very much want to kiss you right now but this bloody gear shift is in the way! Come around to my side of the car so I can do it properly."

Martin, as always, did as he was told. And she gave him a proper, proper kiss.

They drove the rest of the way home knowing they had difficult times ahead and many misunderstandings to sort out. But about one thing they were crystal clear, they did love one another.


	4. Chapter 4

When Martin and Louisa walked in the door of the surgery, Aunt Ruth was sitting on the couch with her feet up and a glass of wine in her hand. Baby James was napping. Louisa walked over and kissed the elderly woman on the cheek, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "Thank you so much, Ruth, for watching James, what would we do without you? Did he give you any trouble?"

"Well, he hasn't done me in quite yet. How are you dear?"

"A bit of a headache. But, I understand the surgeon who performed my procedure is a top vascular specialist and does quality work, so I feel quite confident that the problem has been taken care of. Just need some time to heal now. Martin, I think I'll go up and look in on James and then have a bit of a lie down."

"Yes", Martin said stooping to pick up Louisa's bags. "I'll help you get settled. Ruth would you like to stay and have dinner with us?"

"I think I'll pass, thank you just the same though." She turned as she reached for the doorknob and looked pointedly back at Martin, " Do let me know if I can be of any help".

"Yes, thank you." Martin watched as she pulled the door closed behind her.

He headed for the stairs to look for Louisa. She was in bed and had already drifted off to sleep. Martin tucked the blankets in around her and gently carressed the bruise on her cheek. He heard stirring in James' room and quietly hurried off to get the boy before he disturbed his mother.

When Louisa came downstairs after her nap she found the Ellingham men in the kitchen doing dishes. Martin had James in his push chair which he had moved over near the sink. She looked on surreptitiously as Martin went about his domestic duties and James gnawed on a piece of melba toast. Martin was explaining the importance of proper kitchen hygiene to the boy and held out a handful of suds for him to investigate. The baby reached for the soapy bubbles and tried to get some into his mouth. His father made a quick grab for the boy's hand and wiped it clean of suds.

"No, no, no, James. You don't want to eat that! The ingestion of soap can cause stomach upset and diarrhoea. You better stick with the melba toast for your snack." Martin brushed over the top of James' head with the back of his fingers.

Louisa smiled, watching the interplay between this big man and his small son. She let out a long breath, wishing that Martin could share the gentle side of his personality with people. She knew it was there, so did Ruth, and certainly Joan had been aware of it.

Louisa stepped into the kitchen and James caught sight of her, babbling and waving his arms excitedly.

"Hello James! I missed you! Did you have fun with your Aunt Ruth?"

"I very much doubt that", Martin said wrinkling his nose. "She's spent most of her adult life in the company of axe murderers and serial killers."

"Well, yes. But, nevertheless, we are lucky to have her help."

"Mmm... I fed James before you came down... but are you getting hungry? I could make you an omelet...or whatever you like... I'm not... I'm not saying you have to have an omelet."

Louisa hid a smile. Martin was obviously trying to avoid a repeat of the infamous menu argument they had, the last time she left Martin.

"No...no... an omelet sounds good!"

A small smile crept across Martin's face when he could see that Louisa was pleased with his efforts.

They ate their dinner in relative silence, neither of them having the physical or emotional energy for conversation. The rest of the evening passed quickly and Martin took James upstairs to get him ready for bed. Louisa stayed downstairs reading a book on the couch. She was having a hard time focusing on the story however, as her mind kept drifting back to the drive home from Truro. Martin had asked her why she had married him. 'Because you asked me to', was the answer she had given him. _'That was a pretty rubbish answer wasn't it Louisa. You didn't have to marry him because he_ asked_ you to. Couldn't you have told the poor man that you love him? You complain that he never says those words to you, but how often do you say those words to him? And, isn't marriage about promising yourself to someone else? Promising to be there for them in sickness and health, til death do you part and all that? To be there for one another in good times and bad so neither of you has to face life alone? Well, when the going got tough for Martin you bailed out on him. Yeah, he hasn't been a real joy to be around but he's sure held up his end of the deal a lot better than you have_ _girl!'_ A sickening feeling came over Louisa. She closed her book, turned out the lights and headed upstairs to say goodnight to James.

The baby was in his pyjamas and Martin was rocking him while reading him a bedtime story. Louisa listened to Martin's smooth velvety voice. It was really very soothing. She slipped in quietly beside them and listened to the last few pages. James had fallen asleep. A bedtime story read by his father was sure to have the desired effect.

Martin and Louisa crossed the little hallway to their own bedroom. Louisa finished with her nighttime preparations and Martin helped her get situated in bed before using the lavatory himself. Martin stood hesitantly by the bed, not knowing for sure if he should crawl in with his wife or sleep in the baby's room.

"Problem?" Louisa asked.

"I'm just wondering if it's really wise for us to be in the same bed... I could bump you in the night. Maybe I should sleep in James' room for a few nights... just until you're less tender."

Louisa's face fell when she heard his words. "I don't think you'll bump me Martin so if that's really what's worrying you..."

He could see the disappointment on her face. "Hmm. You'll wake me if you find I'm jostling you too much?"

"Yes Martin, now climb in here. I'm totally knackered and want to go to sleep!"

They both dropped off quickly. Neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before.


	5. Chapter 5

Martin woke around 1:00 a.m. to the sound of his mobile ringing. He hurried out of the bedroom to answer the call where it wouldn't wake his sleeping wife. The male voice on the other end of the line informed him that there had been a fight at the pub and one of the men involved had sustained a deep laceration on his arm. Martin started to tell the caller to bring the man to the surgery but then thought better of it. He better go to the patient. Boisterous, inebriated fishermen were sure to rouse his family.

All seemed relatively quiet when Martin reached the pub. The fellow tending the bar looked up and saw the doctor, signaling him to come over.

"Hey Doc, I wouldn't be hangin' 'round here if I was you. There's stories goin' 'round 'bout what you done to Miss Glasson... er, Mrs. Ellingham. It's not goin' over well with some of these fishermen. I think they got it in for ya."

"What goes on between Mrs. Ellingham and me is our private business!" Martin took a deep breath before going on, "Look, I don't care about a bunch of drunken idiots, I'm just here to treat the man injured in the fight so if you could point him out to me I'd appreciate it."

"Didn't know someone had been hurt Doc. I threw the whole lot out a while ago. Things were gettin' outta hand ya know."

Martin huffed out of the pub, not happy to have had his sleep interrupted unnecessarily. A group of men approached him as he came around the corner of the building to head towards Rosscarrock Hill.

"Hey, you Doc Martin?", a voice called out from the group.

"I'm Dr. Ellingham, are one of you needing medical attention?"

A fisherman stepped forward and held out his arm. "Yeah Doc, hurts somethin' awful"

"Come back inside with me where I can see it." Martin was rather hoping that the group of brawlers had decided not to wait around for him. He turned to head back into the pub and nearly ran headlong into two men coming from the other direction. One of them moved towards Martin menacingly, pushing his face to within inches of Martin's.

"We hear yer one-o them jack-ass Londoners, think they're better 'en the rest of us. Likes to push his wife around, too!"

Martin gritted his teeth and sputtered out, "Why has my personal life become a topic for barroom conversation? I don't owe you any explanations and neither does my wife! Now... get... out ... of my way!"

Martin tried to push past the group but they closed in on him. His stomach tightened as he became aware of the situation he was now in. He'd been in this position many times as a boy in boarding school but thought that was behind him now.

He turned to try to move in the other direction but was stopped abruptly by someone's fist as it cracked against his cheekbone. He lost his balance and fell backwards into the group behind him. They had grabbed his arms, holding them behind his back. The next punches connected with his abdomen and rib cage. Martin heard the yell of a male voice over the sound of shuffling feet and his own grunts and groans. Chippy Miller and a couple of the other local fishermen moved in quickly.

"Oi, break it up", Chippy yelled as he and the other men began to push the aggressors away from the doc. " Leave 'im be now! You had your say with 'im. Bugger off and don't bother the doc again! He's one-a us and we'll do the takin' care of if we need to."

The group broke up and after throwing a few insults Martin's way, they moved off.

"You alright Doc?" asked one of Martin's rescuers.

Martin was on his knees, doubled over and trying to catch his breath. He nodded his head and tried to respond but couldn't get any words out.

"Take yer time Doc. Them blokes Doc... they wasn't from 'round here ya know. They just heard someone shootin' their mouth off in there and it was just an excuse to start somethin'."

"Gosh Doc, I'm really sorry bout this. We'll help ya get back home if ya like."

By this time Martin had regained his composure and shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He coughed then hesitated a few seconds before adding, "thank you, I appreciate your help."

Two of the men assisted Martin in getting to his feet, each taking an arm. "I think we should make sure ya get home okay Doc", said Chippy.

"No, I said I'm fine", Martin replied with an edge to his voice. Then, softening a bit, he bid them goodnight.

The men watched as Martin walked slowly back up the hill to the surgery. He was hurting but knew no serious damage had been done. As he walked on he groaned internally, "_Oh God, Louisa will blow this_ _all out of proportion, and she does NOT need the stress right now_."

When he reached the surgery, Martin went into the lavatory off the reception room to assess the damage. He could see he would have a shiner, but he could cover for that. The bruises to his torso could be a different matter. He would have to be careful around her for awhile. Fortunately, her surgeon wouldn't allow any activity in the bedroom just yet that might encourage the removal of clothing.

He went to the kitchen and got the cold packs from the freezer before laying back on the couch to ice his injuries. He was exhausted and before long had fallen asleep. He awoke shortly before sunrise and crept upstairs to their bedroom. He pulled on his pyjamas and slipped quietly back under the covers.

He felt rather guilty about it but he knew that not sharing all the details about this incident was in Louisa's best interests.

Martin had just dropped back off to sleep when he was awakened by a wail from James. He breathed out a long sigh and began to pull himself from his cozy nest. He stifled a groan as his stiffened muscles resisted his efforts.

James seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed and Martin had to wrestle the boy into a clean nappy and a fresh set of clothes. He then braced himself for the pain he knew would hit him when picked his son up to carry him downstairs.

Like his father, James was an early riser, so when they came into the kitchen the suns rays were just beginning to peek in over the windowsills. Martin usually enjoyed this time alone with the baby but this morning he just wanted to sit and soak in his own misery. His head was throbbing, his muscles ached and he wanted to go back to bed and close his eyes to the world. But he had things he wanted to do before Louisa came down for the day. First he had to get breakfast down a less than cooperative James. He wondered if the boy could be coming down with something. He pressed two fingers to the baby's forehead.

"You're not febrile, James. Are you cutting another tooth? I hope you won't be this cranky for your mother. She's not feeling well so I want you to be on your best behaviour today, understood?"

James gurgled back at his father and reached a chubby fist out which contained a piece of partially macerated banana, perhaps meant as a peace offering.

Martin wiped the excess banana and cereal off the baby's face and with a small groan hoisted him from his high chair. He busied James with some toys on the floor and dashed into his consulting room to get the business card for the psychiatrist that Ruth had recommended. He hurried back before the baby could get into any mischief. Picking up a pad of paper and a pencil from by the phone, Martin began to make two lists. One a list of what he saw as strengths in their marriage, the other a list of deficiencies.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of running water could be heard coming from the upstairs bathroom, Martin's cue to make breakfast for Louisa and himself. It was a chilly morning so he decided on oatmeal and fruit. The tea was steeping on the table when Louisa came downstairs and Martin was busy emptying the dishwasher.

"Good morning James! How are you this morning?"

The baby gave Louisa an unhappy scowl and began to fuss. "Oh dear, that's not like my boy."

"I think he's teething. He's been cranky since he got up", Martin informed her.

Louisa came up behind her husband and pressed against his back. "And how's my other boy?"

Martin turned to answer her, forgetting about the events of the night before. Louisa let out a gasp when she saw the very noticeable bruise on his face.

"Martin, what in the world happened to you?"

"Mmm... I was called out last night to treat a man injured in a fight at the pub and got in the way of someone's fist."

"Oh Martin! Does it hurt?"

"No, it's fine. Nothing really."

"How's the patient?"

"He seemed fine when I left him." Martin silently cursed the idiot.

"I think you should put some ice on that!"

"I did when I got back last night."

"Hmm." Louisa cocked her head at him and Martin hoped she wouldn't ask anymore questions. Best to change the subject maybe.

"How are you feeling this morning, any improvement?"

"I think so. I certainly feel more rested."

"Mmm, good! I can offer you fruit and oatmeal for breakfast or dry cereal if you prefer. Whatever you like."

"The oatmeal sounds wonderful." They sat quietly, each uncertain of what to say to the other.

Martin looked across the table as he often did and marveled that this lovely woman was his wife. "Uh, Louisa. I'll be making a call this morning to the psychiatrist that Ruth has recommended. I was wondering... if you would consider maybe... possibly we could arrange for some sessions to go to together?" He looked up uncertainly from his plate, trying to gauge her reaction.

Louisa looked at him wide-eyed, choking down a mouthful of oatmeal before answering him.

She nodded her head enthusiastically. "I think that's a wonderful idea Martin... a good first step."

"I don't know if he does couples counseling but I thought I could ask. We will need help to get our marriage back on track and I thought it would be useful if whoever we see has some first hand knowledge of my difficulties."

"That sounds very good Martin!"

He could see that she was pleased and he let out a small sigh of relief. He felt like he was always walking a fine line between not doing enough and making too many of the decisions. This was an issue he should add to his list.

Louisa got up and carried her dirty dishes to the sink. She made a slight detour on her way back to brush a hand over Martin's face and to lean down to lightly kiss the ever darkening bruise on his cheek.

"Are you sure that's alright? It's a very nasty bruise."

"It's really nothing" Time to divert the conversation again...

"We need a few groceries and some nappies. I could run down to the market or I was thinking... if you would like to get out a bit we could drive to Wadebridge or even Truro. It's a nice day and the sunshine would be good for you."

"That would be nice Martin."

His head was still pounding and the stiffness in his body was increasing as the morning wore on but Martin didn't care. Louisa was happy.

"Um, is there any particular day that would be best to schedule our joint appointments? I'm not sure if he would agree to see us in the evening."

"Well, I will have year threes on Tuesdays and Thursdays when school starts back in so I guess Monday, Wednesday, or Friday would be ideal. I'll make it work whenever though, Martin. I've been thinking a lot the last few days about what's really important to me... and I do love my job... need my job really. But I need you and James more."

Martin felt a tightening in his chest and a very small smile spread across his face. "Good. I'll go shower and dress and then I'll make the appointments."

Martin scaled the steps, his feet feeling unusually heavy. He gathered his clothes together so that he could dress in the bathroom. He turned on the tap and after adjusting the temperature he stepped in under the showerhead. He felt his muscles relax a bit as the warm water flowed over his creaky body, then he closed his eyes and allowed himself to shut his mind to any thoughts for a few moments.

Martin was concerned that his original suggestion of a trip to Truro might be tiring for Louisa, that perhaps it would be best to stay closer to home. So they did their shopping in Wadebridge, picking up some items for a picnic lunch at the farm. Martin had always found the gazebo to be a relaxing and peaceful place. Well, aside from one miserable morning spent there with his parents and Auntie Joan.

Martin gazed out over the sea, thinking back to their wedding night. They did have a few brief moments to enjoy each other that night. He reminded himself to add "not enough moments alone together" to his list of marital deficiencies.

"Martin? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I was wondering if you had been able to get your phone call made."

"Uhm, to Dr. Newell?"

"I guess I didn't ask you what his name is, but yes Martin, to Dr. Newell."

"Yes, Barret Newell. I have a standing appointment on Wednesdays, and I made ours for Friday at 4:00. If that time doesn't conflict with your work schedule, it might allow us to have dinner together on occasion before heading home."

"Sounds perfect Martin, thank you for doing that."

Louisa slid closer to Martin so that he could put his arm around her. "Did you sit here looking at the ocean when you were a boy?"

"Mmm, Joan and Phil and I would eat most evening meals here if the weather allowed"

Louisa could see the sadness in Martin's eyes whenever they spoke about Joan. She knew there were a lot of emotions bottled up in him that were associated with her life and death. She was trying not to get her hopes up that this Dr. Newell could get Martin to talk about the many issues that he kept locked inside. She had watched as the baggage continued to pile up on his shoulders day after day, slowly weighing him down. And she was becoming increasingly concerned for his mental and physical wellbeing.

James began to stir in his baby seat. Considering how cranky he was when he first got up this morning he had done very well today, but his patience now seemed to be wearing thin so they decided to make a move for home. Martin allowed Louisa to carry the empty baby seat to the car but insisted on carrying James and the picnic supplies. He had just leaned over to set the picnic items on the ground and was standing back up when the baby let out a squeal, arched his back and kicked out in frustration, hitting Martin's sore torso in the process. Martin was caught off guard and let a short yelp slip out before he could clench his teeth together to keep anymore noises from erupting from his mouth. He turned slightly so Louisa wouldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes. She furrowed her brow and gave him a brief stare.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, let me get him situated and we'll get on home. I think he's had enough of being strapped down today."

Martin could feel Louisa's eyes on him so he ducked his head inside the car and took his time getting James buckled into his seat. He could see her glance periodically at him on the drive back to the surgery, but as far as he could tell she didn't really suspect anything. He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his little ruse. He knew she wouldn't be happy with him if she found out he'd been being deceptive. And hell hath no fury...


	7. Chapter 7

The dream sequence in this chapter was inspired by an episode of "William and Mary", in which Martin Clunes' character has what he calls his "red spot/black spot nightmare". Yet another bit of outstanding acting by my favorite actor!

Louisa was startled out of a deep sleep that night by her husband's thrashing in the bed, trapped in one of his almost daily nightmares. She rubbed his shoulder with her free hand in an attempt to rouse him from his anguish.

She spoke to him in hushed tones, "Martin, it's alright... just a dream... Martin, it's just a dream."

He sat up abruptly, yanking his arm away from Louisa and yelling out in his sleep, "The red one!"

Martin was awakened by the sound of his own voice and looked wildly about the room, grasping Louisa's arm as if he was attempting to stop a fall.

The sling on her left arm prevented Louisa from embracing her husband but she slid in close so that their torsos touched. "Martin, it's alright. Sshh... it's alright. Are you awake now?"

Martin's breathing began to slow and his muscles relaxed. He was clinging to Louisa tightly. She caressed his face and could feel dampness from either tears or sweat.

"Another nightmare?", she asked. He nodded his head and she tried to read the emotions in his face. Even in the dim bedroom light she could see his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as if he were trying to block out the memories of the dream.

"Can you tell me what it was about? It might make you feel a bit better and I"m a pretty good listener", she added softly.

Martin loosened his grip on his wife and pulled back away from her.

"Oh Louisa, I'm sorry! Did I hurt your shoulder?"

"I'm just fine, Martin. Now, can we talk about the dream?" She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

He hesitated for a few moments, this was exactly the kind of thing he found so difficult to discuss. He had never really talked about his past with anyone, even Auntie Joan. But he remembered Ruth's words to him just days before and Martin decided he better not push Louisa away again. He blew out a long breath of air. "It was a dream about boarding school... something that happened shortly after I arrived... about an initiation the first year boys were subjected to." He cleared his throat before continuing on, "I had to chose between a red or a green envelope and then one of the older boys would open it up to reveal what I had to do. Typical idiotic hazing rituals... you know. Well, I'd already had my head held down in a bucket of ice water until I nearly passed out, and had to run naked out to the school gate and back..."

Louisa cringed as she could imagine the other boys taunting and egging each other on, as well as the likely whoops of laughter.

"And...", she gave him an encouraging nod.

"More of the usual... you know. I realized pretty quickly that it didn't matter which envelope I chose, the outcome would be the same. I finally refused to pick a color."

Martin inhaled deeply before continuing on.

"They were angry when I wouldn't play along with their game and a couple of the oldest boys grabbed me and held me out the second story window, threatening to drop me if I didn't say which color I wanted. I doubt now that they really would have done it, but at the time I thought for sure my life was going to end on the pavement below. So I was yelling out, 'the red one, the red one!' and wanting to have the floor back under my feet."

Louisa let out a small sigh then went into the bathroom to get a wet wash cloth. She returned and pushed Martin back onto the pillow and wiped the sweat and tears from his face.

"I am so sorry that I can't take this pain away for you." Then she pulled the covers back up and kissed his forehead. "Do you want to talk any more?"

Martin shook his head.

"Do you think you can get back to sleep now?"

"Yeah"

Louisa woke before Martin the following morning. She was relieved that he was finally getting some rest. She lay there looking at the cracks in the ceiling, thinking about the story Martin had shared with her the night before. She'd had an inkling that boarding school had been difficult for her husband but she now worried about how much damage had been done because of his experiences there. Her stomach felt a bit unsettled thinking about their upcoming visits to the therapist. Martin did need to face his inner demons if they were to stay together, but she dreaded having to watch him go through what she knew was to come.

Louisa began to hear soft sounds coming from James' room. Martin began to stir as well. He seemed to have a James alarm in his head that went off as soon as the baby made any noise. Even when she was still getting up in the night to nurse, Martin would hear the baby first and nudge her awake so she could go and tend to him.

When Martin opened his eyes, Louisa was leaning over him with a smile on her face.

Martin cleared his throat. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, I just like to watch you when you're sleeping. Your face is so relaxed and you look much more content. All the grumpy frowny lines go away. You look very handsome... kinda makes me want to climb up and have my way with you", she grinned at him impishly.

"Louisa! You better not try anything of the sort right now or you'll have to answer to your surgeon."

"Mmm, now you're really tempting me", she purred.

Martin could feel his willpower weakening so he quickly jumped out of bed to go take care of James. His battered body resisted and he let out a small groan.

Louisa scowled at him, "Alright Martin Ellingham, what's going on?"

"Nothing... I better get James." He glanced over at his wife and recognized the look on her face. She was not going to let this go now.

He scurried out of the room before she could ask anymore questions.

Martin reached out to pick up his son and the boy gave him one of his brightest smile. "Good morning James. Sleep well?"

"Martin! I asked you a question! Is something the matter?"

Martin could hear her approaching footsteps.

"The jig is up, James... could get a bit rough."

Martin held the boy up so he could look him in the eye. "Sorry about that."

Louisa stood in the doorway with one hip swung out and her free arm resting on it. She tipped her head down and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well?"

Martin busied himself changing James' nappy and getting him dressed for the day. He waggled his head slightly then put his nose in the air as he began to speak, a mannerism of his that Louisa had come to know as defensive posturing.

"I didn't tell you about it because I didn't think it was worth mentioning, Louisa!"

"Well I want to know, so now it _is_ worth mentioning, Martin!"

"Alright, but I don't want you to worry about this. You don't need the added stress right now."

"Don't decide for me what I do or don't need to know!"

"Yes, I am just saying that..."

"Martin Ellingham, I know you're hiding something and the longer you dance around the issue the more stressed I get, so if you're concerned about my stress level... out with it!"

"Alright, but please try to be calm about this."

He inhaled deeply and let a long breath out through his nose.

"The fight at the pub the other night... it seems there was some gossiping going on, believe it or not, about our disagreement at sports day. A group of inebriated morons thought I needed taking down a notch, intercepted me at the bottom of the hill and roughed me up a bit... stories over... okay?

"What do you mean, roughed you up a bit? Martin, what did they do... are you alright?" Louisa was beginning to panic.

"Yes, Louisa... just a bit sore. Some punches to my abdomen and ribs. You really needn't worry, I experienced much worse than this at boarding school."

"Oh, that's reassuring! Did you tell Joe Penhale about this? What if these men come back!" Louisa let out a sigh. "You should not have kept this from me Martin, you weren't being truthful."

"No, I didn't tell Penhale. The men that did it weren't even from the village... according to Chippy Miller. He and a couple of the other fishermen came to my rescue and sent the idiots on their way... I don't think they'll be back. And, I said nothing that was untrue Louisa... and it really is not good for you to be stressed right now. It raises your blood pressure which can adversely affect the..."

"Okay, I understand where you were coming from. But the next time someone "roughs you up", please just come out with it right away and I will do my best to not get riled up."

Martin held James up in the air in front of him, checking that he was presentable and then raised his eyebrows at her, "I should hope there won't be a next time." He turned to face her. "James is sanitary now... breakfast?"

Louisa shook her head in disbelief at her husband then turned and headed for the stairs.

"Louisa?"


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to everyone who has posted a review of my little story. I love reading them! The writers on DM FF have been my inspiration. You have all been so kind and encouraging and I appreciate it immensely!

I already had several chapters written before I submitted the first one... just had to get up the courage to actually put myself "out there". So at some point the frequency of new chapters will slow, but for now it's fun to be able to keep them coming.

Aside from a new tooth for James, the weekend came and went uneventfully. Monday morning brought a reception room full of patients. The summer tourist season was in full swing and that meant more than the usual number of mundane maladies presenting. Mostly sunburned skin, jellyfish and weaver stings, allergic reactions and Martin's personal favourite, hung over partiers. He was beginning to long for a foray into the woods to track down an anaphalactic police constable.

Whenever he passed through to get a new file from Morwenna he would take a quick glance down the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of James and Louisa. He fought back the thought that Louisa could take James and leave again. She hadn't said anything to him about the dream he'd had the other night and he feared that his emotional reaction to it could cause her to rethink trying to make their marriage work. One more thing to add to his "crap" list. When would that list get so long that his "stick of stone" quality couldn't make up for it anymore. That she would decide he had more emotional baggage than she cared to deal with.

The morning dragged but lunchtime brought welcome relief from the constant yammering and whinging of patients. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as he sat down to eat with James and Louisa. They were his oasis.

"I didn't see you at all this morning... did you and James go out?" Martin didn't want it to sound like he was trying to keep tabs on Louisa's whereabouts, but he found himself feeling anxious when he didn't see any sign of her before lunch.

Louisa's eyes shifted away from Martin's. She didn't know how he would react if he knew she'd been to see to Ruth. She really needed to talk to someone about the nightmare that Martin experienced and she knew Ruth could be trusted to keep the information to herself. She had also hoped that Ruth might have some knowledge, perhaps passed on by Joan, that could be useful in helping her husband to deal with these dreams that seemed to be occurring with an ever increasing frequency.

"I'm sorry, I can't be of much help dear. Joan talked about Martin quite often but I don't think even she was aware that boarding school was going so badly for him. It's very easy for adults to dismiss children's problems as trivial. I'm not saying that we weren't concerned for our nephew, just that when Martin would share a bit of information, which wasn't often mind you, I'm afraid we probably downplayed the significance of it."

Louisa refocused her attention on Martin's question. "Um, yes, we did get out for a walk, didn't we James! And we stopped in to say hello to Aunt Ruth. She sends her love by the way." She shot Martin a small smile.

"Mmm"

Louisa gave Martin a scrutinizing look. "How are you feeling about your appointment on Wednesday... apprehensive?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really know what to expect, the usual psychoanalytical claptrap I would assume."

Louisa's face fell. "Martin, nothing will come of this therapy if you go into it with a negative attitude. Please try to keep an open mind and respect the fact that this man has a fine reputation and, I might add, Ruth's highest regard. I do expect you give this a fair chance. Alright?"

Martin sat chagrined and shaking his head. "I'm really not comfortable discussing my feelings."

"Yes, and that is a good part of the problem! Both yours and ours! You will only get out of this what you're willing to put into it Martin, and I expect you to give it your all!" Louisa huffed out a breath of air then her voice softened. "I'm a bit nervous about this even if you aren't. What you do with your chance... our chance here... to improve things... it will tell me a great deal about how important this is to you. How important James and I are to you."

Martin returned to his patients feeling chastised but strangely uplifted. Louisa wanted him to to try for them. She wanted him.

Martin had returned to his desk and yelled out from his office, "Morwenna!" He heard the approaching flap-flap of his receptionist's overly-casual footwear.

"Yeah Doc?"

"Morwenna, I need you to reschedule any appointments after half two on Wednesday and Friday. And don't schedule any more appointments during those same time periods until I tell you otherwise."

"What's going on Doc?"

"Just... do it!"

The receptionist scurried away.

"And send Mrs. Poustie in!"

There was a rustle and jingling in the hall. Martin looked up to see Joe Penhale standing in the doorway, thumbs hooked over his belt. "We need to chat, Doc. Word goin' round the village is you had a run-in with some toughs down at the pub the other night." He puffed out his chest and walked over to the desk to take a seat. "I'm here to take your statement. Can you describe your assailants?"

"Oh, it's over, Penhale. It was a one off... just leave it alone."

"Can't do that, Doc. The perps could escalate to murder next time you know."

"Penhale, I'm not giving you a statement! Now please leave, I have patients to see!"

"Well Doc, that's your decision. Just don't want to be scrapin' you off the street next time. Remember I'm just a phone call away, 24/7." He held his thumb and little finger to the side of his head as he left the room.

Martin shook his head as he watched the constable swagger away. "Mrs. Poustie!"

As they were preparing for bed that evening Louisa again addressed the subject of Martin's upcoming appointment. "Martin, I was wondering... I mean I haven't asked you if you would like me to join you when you see Dr. Newell on Wednesday."

"Hmm, I'm not sure that would be the most efficient use of the time at this point. I would imagine there will be a lot of questions about my haemophobia and my past but I wouldn't imagine we'd get beyond that in the first session. Perhaps there might be a time in the future where it could be useful."

"Would you mind if James and I rode along. You could drop us at the children's shop before you head to Dr. Newell's. I need to pick up some clothes for him. He's been growing so fast lately! I think he's going to be big like his daddy."

"Mmm, I was a rather small child until I hit my teen years."

"Well, still". She eyed her husband up and down. "So, would it be okay if we rode along?"

"That would be fine... it would be good", he said nodding his head.

Martin had enjoyed two relatively peaceful nights in a row, but tonight sleep would prove to be more elusive. His mobile rang at around half twelve and he had to make a trip out to the Hanley farm to see Jim Hanley, the husband. Mr. Hanley was known to hit the bottle quite hard and tonight his imbibing had caused him to fall and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table, opening a nasty gash in his forehead. Martin fought the nausea as he checked the man's pupillary reflexes, but lost the battle when he went to clean the wound prior to stitching it up. He actually vomited twice, the second time was after he inadvertently jabbed the curved suturing needle into his own thumb.

Once finished with his patient, Martin cleaned up his own wound and applied a liberal amount of disinfectant before applying the plaster. Mr. Hanley was a mean drunk and Martin was uncomfortable leaving him alone with his wife and children, so he stayed until the man had sobered up a bit and fallen asleep on the couch. It was going on 3:00 a.m. before he was able to get away from the Hanley farm. He arrived back at the surgery and had just made it to the top of the stairs when he heard James begin to fuss. The baby didn't wake in the night very often but if he was going through a growth spurt he would occasionally need an extra bottle to get him through until morning. He laid James back down in his cot and half asleep, walked back to their bedroom, pulled off his shoes, suit coat and tie and crawled in under the covers. Two hours later his alarm went off.


	9. Chapter 9

Martin dropped Louisa and James off at the children's store shortly before his appointment with Dr. Newell on Wednesday afternoon. The park was nearby so Louisa planned to take James for a walk after she had finished her shopping.

A feeling of dread had begun to descend on Martin the night before and he slept restlessly, waking often worrying about how uncomfortable this appointment today could get. He didn't want to admit it to Louisa, but it was frightening for him to think that this Dr. Newell could resurrect long forgotten hurts and painful memories. But, maybe there was nothing to be remembered. He knew he had been "blessed" with unloving, vile parents and he knew his years shut away in boarding school had been miserable. It could very well be that there was nothing more to be dredged up. But the brief flashes of memories that had permeated his sleep lately caused him to feel a great deal of trepidation as he walked up the sidewalk to the therapist's building.

Dr. Newell had a very professional air about him and Martin was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he found himself feeling in the man's office. It was very neat and well-organised, much like the man himself. The doctor's credentials, which were quite impressive, were displayed on the wall. Martin had done his research beforehand so he knew the man was well-qualified.

After the formal introductions, Martin was offered a chair across from Dr. Newell's desk.

"Well Martin, I won't insult your intelligence by asking what you hope to get out of these sessions. That's a bit like asking you to predict the future isn't it?"

The man had a penetrating gaze that made Martin shift in his seat slightly. "Mmm, I suppose it is".

"I will ask you to begin by telling me a bit about your life as it is today and then we will look at your past history a bit. You are free to refuse to answer questions that you're uncomfortable with, but I will remind you that approaching these sessions in that manner will not provide you with the results that could be achieved otherwise. It is generally the most painful areas of discussion that yield the greatest benefits. Do you have any questions for me before we get started?"

"My wife did ask about whether or not it would be helpful for her to come to any of my sessions. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that, but if you think it would be of some use..."

Newell smiled at Martin before answering. He was glad to see his patient was willing to leave his comfort zone and to do whatever might be necessary.

"Yes, it may indeed be helpful at some point but for now I think it best if the focus is on you. Alright then, how long have you and your wife been married?" ...

The standard format continued on for the next half hour before Dr. Newell shifted gears rather abruptly.

"Tell me about the last visit you had with your parents, Martin. I'm making an assumption that they're both living?"

"Um, my father died recently. My mother showed up on our doorstep about two weeks ago to deliver the news. Do you want to know about my mother's visit or the visit from my mother and father four years ago?" Martin's stomach began to churn at the thought of his parents.

"Why don't we discuss this most recent visit first. You said your mother came to see you to tell you that your father had died. You mentioned earlier that you have an aunt who lives in Port Wenn currently and a deceased aunt had lived in the village for many years before her death less than a year ago. Was your father's funeral in Port Wenn as well?"

Martin sighed, "No, the funeral had been held two weeks before my mother arrived."

"I'm not sure I follow then, why didn't your mother call you to tell you about your father's death so that you could be at the funeral? I would imagine you would have liked to have been there." He waited for Martin to answer him but his patient sat, silent. "Your mother must have felt it was more important to tell you in person than for you to be notified in time to attend the funeral?"

Martin's head was beginning to pound and he wanted nothing more at the moment than to get up and dash out the door.

"Her objective with the visit was not to tell me about my father's death but rather to ask for money. My father had made a number of bad investments and left her with no capital... she wanted money."

"What did your wife..." he glanced at his notes. "What did Louisa think about not being told in advance of the funeral? I would imagine she might have liked to be there as well."

"Louisa had never met my parents. She would have accompanied me if I had attended, but she didn't know the man so I assume it would make no difference to her one way or the other."

"I'm guessing you're not close to your parents, Martin?"

"We had a falling out when they came four years ago. I was actually quite surprised to see my mother when she showed up. I didn't think I would see either of them again."

"I see. The parent/child relationship can be complicated."

Martin scowled and looked at the floor. "I don't know that it could be called a relationship."He raised his hands to his head and rubbed his temples.

Dr. Newell looked at his watch and stood up behind his desk. "Well, I think that's enough for today." He reached to shake Martin's hand as he moved towards the door. "It was very nice to meet you Martin... I look forward to meeting Louisa on Friday."

"Yes" Martin breathed a sigh of relief as he left the office.

Louisa tried not to make Martin feel as if he was being interrogated on the drive home, but she was very curious about how his first session had gone.

"What is Dr. Newell like?"

"Mmm, he's about the same age as I am I would guess. Well-organised, professional..."

Louisa could see this was going to be like getting blood from a turnip. "Did you like the man?"

"I'm not sure that it matters if I like him or not."

"Well, no. I suppose not. I'm just wondering about his personality... does he seem nice?"

Martin rolled his eyes in annoyance at her questions. "I don't see that any of that is relevant, Louisa! "

She huffed out a breath of air and turned away from Martin to look out the window.

He could see the signs of anger on her face... the crinkles around her eyes, the taut lips.

He knew he now had to defuse the situation.

"Um, did you and James enjoy your walk in the park?"

She folded her arms across her chest forcefully before delivering her frosty reply. "It was fine, Martin!"

They drove along for several minutes before Martin spoke again. "I'm sorry, Louisa. I'm feeling rather tense and don't want to discuss my appointment just now... I didn't mean to snap at you."

Louisa sat silently for a few moments and then replied, "I'm sorry too, Martin. I'll try in the future to let you initiate the conversations about your visits with Dr. Newell." She stroked his arm and he glanced her way. They exchanged shy smiles before she added, "I'm just feeling very nervous for you and I think I need the reassurance that you're alright."

"I'm fine, but I do have a headache so can we please discuss this later?"

"Yes, Martin"

Neither of them broached the subject of Martin's session with Dr. Newell again until that night after they had gone to bed. Martin had snuggled up against Louisa, one arm laying over her stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet smell, finally feeling the tightness in his chest begin to give way to relaxation.

"Um, you were wanting to know about my appointment... Dr. Newell was just gathering information today. Mostly about my life now... my job, family, where I live, what brought me to Port Wenn."

Louisa stayed silent in hopes that he would continue talking.

"Then he asked me to tell him about the visit from Mum... I told him she claimed to have come to give us the news about Dad when in reality she wanted money. I think he was trying to get some idea of what my relationship with them is... or was...like. He didn't ask very many questions today... I think it was more of a fact finding mission this time around."

Louisa turned her head to look more directly at her husband. "What do you mean she came to ask for money?"

"After you left in the taxi, I confronted her about why she was here. I knew she hadn't come here to... as she put it, tell me about Dad in person... that she was so concerned about my feelings that she didn't want to tell me over the phone. She tried to tell me that Dad loved me, that he just hadn't been able to say it. That in his last moments of life he asked her to tell me for him. I knew it was a lie."

Louisa pushed herself up into a sitting position and Martin moved over so that his head was in her lap.

"Well Martin, maybe you shouldn't be so quick to reject the idea that your father loves you... or loved you. I find you pretty lovable... most of the time", she said as she lightly twirled her fingertips in his hair.

"Louisa, I spent a lifetime trying to win my parents love. I realised four years ago that they would never feel that way about me and finally gave up trying."

"Oh Martin, I can't say that I like your mother and I never met your father but don't you think you're being a little hard on your parents? You may not have seen eye to eye with one another but I can't imagine they didn't love you. They are Ellingham's, maybe it was just hard for them to show it."

Louisa could feel Martin's body tense and he sat up abruptly. When he turned to face her, the intensity of the hurt and disbelief in his eyes frightened her. She could hear his breathing becoming more rapid. He took on the look of a cornered animal.

"Um, I'm not sure I remembered to lock the doors. I better go and double check."

Martin got up quickly and hurried off. She heard his footsteps on the stairs then the sound of the front door opening.

Louisa waited and when her husband didn't return she began to worry. Had she said something to upset him? She sat there in bed hoping he would come back and not knowing what she should do if he didn't.

She waited a bit longer then wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and made her way downstairs to look for him. She opened the front door and peeked out. Martin was sitting on the top step of the terrace staring off at the harbour.

"Mind if I join you?" she said as she walked over to him.

He slid over to make room for her but turned his head away as she sat down. "Martin, is something the matter?"

"It's not important."

Louisa pulled on his arm in an attempt to get him to turn and face her. "Martin, we both agreed that we can't fall back into the way things were. Well, that's right where we're headed if you won't talk to me!"

Louisa took a deep breath and tried to push her frustration aside. "Please... tell me... is something wrong?"

She could hear his breathing becoming ragged and more rapid again as he prepared to speak. "Louisa, I don't think I can possibly explain to you... I feel like a complete idiot to have thought someone would... I have no clue as to how to explain..." Martin snorted air from his nose as he stood up. " I don't know!" He got up and stormed back inside leaving his wife at a loss.

Martin was in bed when Louisa came into their room. They both felt their conversation stymied and were clueless as to what to do about it. Louisa leaned over and kissed Martin's cheek. "Love you."

"Mmm, me too."

Each for different reasons, they fell asleep with heavy hearts.


	10. Chapter 10

The atmosphere was tense in the Ellingham household. Louisa felt Martin pulling even further into himself and it only served to strengthen her insecurities. And Martin was feeling like a stranger in his own home. There was no comfort for him when he joined James and Louisa for lunch on Thursday. He felt hurt and humiliation now when he was in the same room with Louisa.

He had tried many times as a child to tell someone about the pain of being Christopher and Margaret Ellingham's son, about how he craved their love and attention. But he was told over and over that he just didn't understand his parents. No one wanted to hear him. How could he have been so stupid as to think things would be any different with Louisa?

Ruth came over at 2:00 on Friday to look after James so that Martin and Louisa could go to their appointment with Dr. Newell. Martin was still finishing with the last of his patients so Louisa took the opportunity to discuss with Ruth the ill-fated conversation they had on Wednesday night.

"I just don't know what went wrong there, Ruth. All seemed to be going fine and then he got this horribly hurt look on his face, made an excuse about needing to double check that the doors were locked and ran off. I found him later sitting on the terrace steps. I tried to talk to him about it but he said he didn't think he could begin to explain it to me... that he felt like an idiot."

"Well, if the conversation did truly transpire in the manner you are remembering then I suspect Martin may have felt rather betrayed. And he was probably feeling like he had let his guard down and it resulted in him being hurt."

Louisa furrowed her brow at Ruth. "How did I betray him... or hurt him? I was just trying to reassure him that his parents did love him!"

"But are you sure that's the case?"

Louisa laughed uncomfortably. "What, you don't think Martin's parents loved him? Ruth, this is your brother we're talking about!"

"I think this is something you really need to be hearing from Martin, but I'm afraid he may be wary of discussing it with you now dear. I know you meant well, but I think if you could see this from his perspective you might understand where things went awry. You should definitely bring it up during your session with Dr. Newell."

Louisa left her son in Ruth's competent hands and went to check on her husband.

Martin was just finishing with the last of the patient notes when she stuck her head in the doorway of the consulting room.

"Ready to go?"

"Um, yes. Let me just file these." Louisa could still see the hurt in Martin's eyes when he glanced up at her.

After a very quiet drive to Truro, Martin and Louisa were now seated together in front of Dr. Newell's desk.

"It would be helpful to me if I could start our sessions by asking each of you to tell me what you see as strengths and weaknesses in your marriage. And since I am a chivalrous man, I will start by asking you, Louisa." There was a gentleness in the man's face that instantly put Louisa at ease.

"Well, I would say our greatest strength is our love for one another and our mutual love for our son. And, we are certainly patient... it took us quite awhile to finally get together. And persistence... we are persistent. We do keep trying to get this right, although it seems we haven't been very successful."

"And what do you see as weaknesses... things you need to work on?"

Louisa lowered her eyes and squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, we don't communicate well. We're constantly having misunderstandings and little rows. And we are very different people and that often causes disagreements. Our personalities are quite opposite. Martin is quiet and very much an introvert and I love to get out and socialise. I would also say that I'm a people pleaser and Martin says pretty much exactly what's on his mind, even if people find it rude or insulting. That can be a real problem because I then feel compelled to apologise for his behaviour and I want people to see him the way that I do."

Newell swiveled in his chair to look at Martin. "Alright, what about you Dr. Ellingham?"

Martin reached inside his coat to retrieve the list he had been compiling and slid it across the desk to Dr. Newell.

Louisa couldn't help but notice the smile that the doctor was trying to conceal. Newell scanned over the list and then handed it back to Martin and asked him to read what it said to Louisa.

"I agree with Louisa that our greatest strength is the love we have for each other. I also think that we're both intelligent people and with some guidance, should be able to figure out how to function better as a couple. We share similar values... we both care about people but may act on it in different ways. We both want what is best for our son... but there again, we may not show it in the same way. There's more here but... can't she just read the rest?"

The annoyance in Martin's voice was not missed by the doctor. " Sure, that would be fine. Why don't you move on to what you have titled 'Marital Deficiencies' then, Martin."

Martin sighed and then continued on. "I agree that our lack of communication causes us the most problems by far. I'm a rather taciturn person so Louisa tends to fill in the blanks with her own assumptions. I need to learn to share my thoughts more completely. I'm a very concrete thinker and Louisa is an abstract thinker and I think that quite often gets us into trouble. And, again there is more but you can read the rest... mmm."

Martin looked away from Louisa in obvious discomfort as he handed her the sheet of paper.

Dr. Newell took a deep breath in then smiled broadly at them from across the desk. "Okay, I think that gives us a good foundation to work from." The man rolled back in his chair slightly and gripped the armrests. "Since the communication issue and frequent misunderstandings seem to be of greatest concern why don't you tell me about your most recent row."

Louisa glanced over at Martin and after giving a recap of their exchange on Wednesday night she continued, "So, I'm just really at a loss as to where the conversation broke down... or what I said to upset Martin so terribly!"

The doctor rolled his chair forward and rested his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers. "Martin, you've had some time to think this through a bit... would you be able to answer Louisa's question now?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders and inhaled deeply. "I was trying to share something and you dismissed it."

Louisa stared at Martin, perplexed. "I was just trying to reassure you that your parents do love you, Martin."

Martin gazed at the floor and shook his head. "No they don't. They never did and never will."

"And see, I think you're the one making assumptions, Martin. You don't know what's in their hearts. Unless you've given them some reason to not love you I think you should assume they do."

Then addressing Dr. Newell she explained, "The Ellingham family has a very difficult time expressing emotion... well, the loving kind."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Martin jumped up from his chair. "This has nothing to do with whether the Ellingham's are incapable of expressing themselves or what is or isn't in their hearts! Louisa, you know nothing about this! You've never even met my ghastly father and you've spent the sum total of three days with my mother, during most of which I should remind you, you were at the bloody school! My father never had a good word to say about me... belittling everything about me... my position as a GP, my lack of financial nous, even my spineless character. And why the hell should I assume my mother loves me when she told me in no uncertain terms four years ago that my mere existence ruined her life... that she did everything she could to get rid of me... boarding school... Auntie Joan's. And I still managed to be in the way... being bullied and teased and wetting the bed. I believe her exact words were, 'I wasted forty years of my life clinging to your father... because of you'. " And I'm supposed to assume the woman loves me?" Martin looked at Louisa with disbelief in his eyes then sat back heavily into his chair.

Holding his head in his hands he continued on, his voice much softer now, "I thought you would listen to me and maybe you would understand. I used to try to talk about this with people... Auntie Joan... a teacher once...but everyone dismissed it. So I quit talking. When you dismissed it the other night... I felt like the room was closing in on me and I just had to get out of the house."

His voice was barely audible now. "I was hurt and felt like an idiot for having let myself walk right into it again... I felt so overwhelmingly alone... like when I was a boy. I just had to get away from you... from the room."

After several moments of silence, Martin raised his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose control like that. Louisa, I'm very sorry that I yelled at you."

Dr. Newell cleared his throat. "That's quite alright, Martin. I would have to say that you were communicating very effectively... questions have been answered and information and feelings were shared. Well done."

The doctor stood and excused himself from the room, giving Louisa and Martin a few moments alone.

Louisa came over and knelt in front of Martin. "I am so sorry. I should have let you talk the other night instead of trying to jump in and fix something when I didn't even know what was broken. I didn't intend to be dismissive but I know in the end that's exactly what I was." She tipped her head to the side to try to see in his downward facing eyes. "Can you forgive me and give me another chance? I will do my very best to not violate your trust next time, Martin."

She stood up then took his chin in her hand and tipped his head up before kissing him. "I love you Martin Ellingham".

Embracing her, he returned the sentiment.


	11. Chapter 11

Martin was exhausted by the time they reached home. He'd had little sleep since their troubled conversation Wednesday night and the visit with the therapist this afternoon had completely drained him. He was tired and just did not feel well so he went straight to bed.

Ruth had just finished feeding James his dinner when Louisa came out to the kitchen.

"Were you a good boy for Aunt Ruth, James? Did you have fun?"

"I'm not sure that this old lady is a good source of entertainment for your son. He is very tolerant of me, though. How was the appointment? I don't see my nephew... you didn't decide to leave him in Truro did you?"

After the way the session had gone, Louisa wasn't in the mood to make jokes about Martin. "No Ruth, it was actually very productive. Martin was quite tired and went up to bed. It was a rather tough afternoon for him."

Louisa picked James up and excused herself to get the baby ready to put down for the night . While she was upstairs, Ruth made each of them a cup of tea.

When Louisa returned to the kitchen the two women sat down at the table to continue their conversation.

"Oh, thank you for the tea, Ruth! James is out like a light... as is his father. Between late night calls and the nightmares, Martin hasn't been getting much sleep lately."

Ruth shot her one of the deadpan looks that Louisa was sure the woman could use with great effect when counselling the criminally insane. "I'm assuming you discussed at your appointment what happened the other night?"

Louisa let out a long sigh. "Yes... oh Ruth, I feel absolutely terrible about how I trampled on Martin's feelings. I've always felt so sorry for myself because I thought my parents had messed me around so badly, but I never doubted their love for me. I just can't fathom that Margaret and Christopher really didn't love their son. Ruth, did you know that Margaret had told Martin that he had ruined her life by being born?"

"No, I wasn't aware of that but it doesn't surprise me in the least. Margaret and I had quite an interesting conversation while she was here. I was concerned for my nephew... she's been an abysmal mother and I knew her presence here could only harm Martin further."

Louisa looked at Ruth with apprehension in her eyes. "Ruth, I need to know what to prepare myself for... I mean, after hearing Martin tell me about the incident at boarding school and now finding out about his unloving parents... I'm very worried about how much other stuff there is that I don't know about. Do you think this will be terribly had for Martin?"

Ruth fiddled with the teacup in her hands. "Well, it won't be easy for sure! I do know that Christopher was very firmly in the 'spare the rod and spoil the child' camp when it came to disciplining his son. And Joan had told me that Martin was always very fearful and upset about having to go back home after holidays with her and Phil. But aside from that, I'm probably as in the dark as you are my dear. I'm sorry that I can't be of more help."

Louisa reached across the table to take Ruth's hand. "Ruth, you have already helped immeasurably, both with James and with lending a kind ear whenever I've needed it. I'm so happy that you decided to stay in Port Wenn. Joan's death was harder on Martin than he wants to admit, but I think it softened the blow a bit to have you here."

Ruth flashed Louisa a crooked smile. "Well, I should be moving on. And you my dear should be joining your husband in bed. You're still healing, remember."

" Yes Ruth, your nephew keeps reminding me of that as well."

Louisa was very aware of the mistake she had made in minimizing Martin's feelings about his parents. She was really hoping to talk more about Margaret's visit two weeks ago as well as the awful things the woman had said to her son four years ago, but she knew she should not push Martin any further. She would have to wait until he was ready to talk... if he ever trusted her again.

Louisa slipped into bed as quietly as she could so as to not wake her husband. She lay thinking about their session with Dr. Newell today and how skillfully the man had gotten Martin to open up about his feelings. He seemed to sense when Martin had reached his limit and if pushed any further would shut down. She was cautiously optimistic about how fruitful the investment of their time and effort in therapy might be. She was also reminding herself to be realistic in her expectations about how much Dr. Newell could help Martin.

Martin was awakened halfway through the night by disturbing thoughts. He sat bolt upright in bed, his heart racing. Her husband's jostling disturbed Louisa's slumber as well and she pulled herself upright next to him.

"Another bad dream?" she asked sleepily.

Martin tried to slow his breathing before replying. "No, not really. Just more like images... or flashes of images... and feelings... I'm not sure." His head was spinning.

Louisa reached over to rub his back. "Martin, you feel hot. Are you ill?"

"Just coming down with a virus I think. I'll see how I am in the morning, I might have to have Morwenna cancel my appointments again. At least it's a Saturday... won't be too many to reschedule".

Louisa got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers. "I'm going to go down to get a thermometer... I'll be right back."

She returned carrying a glass of water. She grabbed Martin's head and stuck the aural thermometer in his ear. "102.4... here, I brought you some paracetamol and some water. Is there anything else I should get you doctor?"

Martin fidgeted uncomfortably. "I think that's fine. Thank you... I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep... you need your rest. I'm going to grab a blanket and go sleep on the couch. I don't want either you or James getting this."

"That sounds like kind of a silly idea to me, Martin. I think we already shared plenty of germs when we kissed at the therapist's office, don't you?"

"Yes, but I wasn't febrile yet so I may not have been contagious at that time. It really would be safest for me to go downstairs."

"Hmm... let's live dangerously." Louisa pushed him back down on the bed and kissed him solidly on the mouth.

Martin could do nothing but stare up at her wide-eyed.

"Goodnight husband."

"Mmm"

Louisa was awakened several more times by Martin's tossing in his sleep and his febrile mumblings. She couldn't make out any words but could tell that the dream he was trapped in was not a pleasant one. She hoped that he would be discussing his sleep issues with Dr. Newell.

Morning brought with it a heavy mist, the grey sky matching the color of Martin's mood. The unpleasant images and fearfulness that woke him the first time, accompanied him through the rest of the night. He felt an intense edginess and he found himself snapping at Louisa's attempts to care for him.

"I'm sorry, Louisa. I appreciate your help... it's just... I'm feeling a bit tense and I'm not used to having someone take care of me. It's very uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sorry about that Martin, but you're sick and I am going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Louisa plumped the pillows for him and plopped a stack of BMJ's next to him before pushing her face up to his. "It's not like I'm asking you to let me operate on your brain, now is it?"

Martin harrumphed but then softly said, "Could you ask Morwenna to reschedule my appointments for me... and bring me some toast?"

Louisa smiled broadly at him. "I'd be more than happy to, Martin". Then she leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head.


	12. Chapter 12

The virus that had taken Martin down had run it's course by Monday morning so he was back to seeing patients as usual, many of them afflicted with the same illness. Therefore, his words, "drink plenty of fluids, get lots of rest and call me if you're not better in forty-eight hours" seemed to echo in his head all day.

He never thought he would be happy to see Malcolm Raynor but when the hypochondriac came through the consulting room door he breathed a sigh of relief. Malcolm walked towards the chair in front of Martin's desk and had just begun to lower himself into the seat when the doctor barked out "Not there... over here!" as he pointed to his examination couch. Martin put the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears and placed the diaphragm on the man's chest.

"Cough."

Raynor managed a feeble hack as the doctor listened to his breath sounds. "Have you seen improvement in your breathing?"

"No I'm afraid not, it's been horrible. Last night I thought I was dying. I literally saw my life flash before my eyes. I got all that to deal with and I'm afraid there's been another relapse of my suspected pemphigus vulgaris on top of it. You're gonna have to hit me with the heavy drugs, doc. It may already be too la..."

"No it's not. Your lungs are perfectly clear. And as I've told you before Mr. Raynor, if you did have pemphigus vulgaris, which you don't, you would be experiencing painful chronic blistering!"

Martin walked back over to sit down behind his desk, signaling Malcolm to sit in the chair opposite.

"Have you been using the inhaler as I directed?"

"I sure have, doc, just like you said."

"And you've gotten rid of your birds?"

"I did doc... it was awful... like havin' my children ripped from my arms... just not the same since they been gone!"

"Good, keep up with the regular use of the inhaler for another month and you should be fine. Call if you begin to have any further _genuine_ breathing problems."

Martin looked up from Raynor's notes. "You can go now!"

Martin had finished with patients for the day and was restocking his medication cupboard when there was a knock at the door. "Yes!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Chris Parsons, the chief officer of the *CCG and Martin's mate from medical school, entered the consulting room.

"Looks like you're busy. Do you have time to talk?"

Martin turned quickly at the sound of his friends voice. "Chris! What brings you here?"

"I had to meet with someone in Wadebridge and thought I'd kill two birds with one stone."

Martin looked up from the syringes he was sorting. "Should I be worried?"

"No, quite the opposite. Just thought you'd like to know that the governing board met last night and the subject of your rather unconventional approach with Mr. Westmore two weeks ago was discussed. I have to say Mart, there were a couple of board members who thought we should bring the hammer down on you. Fortunately, Mr. Westmore seems to idolize you and had dropped by my office yesterday morning with a letter addressed to the board... let's just say you owe him a bottle of that expensive single malt you like. His letter helped to swing the decision in your favour."

Martin stood listening, wide-eyed. This was an issue that he had been trying not to think about but it had been weighing on him nonetheless. Chris could see the relief on his friend's face. "I'm happy for you mate, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing if I'd been in your position. How _is_ Louisa?"

"She's doing well! The fractured clavicle will need a few more weeks to heal but the AVM repair looks good. I'm sure she would like to see you... if you have the time."

"Sure, are you done for the day?"

Martin glanced around his office looking for any loose ends that might need to be tied up. "Um, yes!"

Louisa was happy to see Chris. He had been a tremendous help to her husband when his blood sensitivity first surfaced and supported him when he wanted to try to go back into surgery. Although she was happy that Martin had chosen to stay in Port Wenn, she was glad that he had been given the opportunity to make that decision for himself. Chris had been a good friend to Martin and for that she was grateful.

"I'm glad to hear your recovery has gone so well, Louisa. A pretty scary week for both you and Martin."

"Yes, it was Chris. But Martin's taken very good care of me and I am really feeling about back to normal now, apart from this." She pointed to her sling and then moved over and wrapped her free arm around her husband's waist. Martin looked down at the floor in obvious discomfort at Louisa's display of affection in front of his friend. The sudden sound of a wail coming from the baby monitor provided him with an opportune excuse to leave the awkward moment behind to retrieve his son.

Chris watched as Martin disappeared around the corner to ascend the stairs. He smiled slightly when he turned his attention back to Louisa.

"How's Martin doing? He looks a bit rough... all okay?"

"He's been struggling with some personal issues Chris. Not sleeping much and he's been under a lot of stress."

Chris cocked his head questioningly at Louisa. "Stress... about what decision the CCG might come to you mean?"

"No... I'm not sure how much I should share with you Chris. Let's just say that Martin's trying to come to terms with his past."

"Ah... he had it pretty hard as a kid. I always wondered if he wouldn't have to face up to it at some point. In fact I tried to talk to him about it once but he insisted that he just didn't dwell on those things. As if ignoring it would make it go away."

Chris had Louisa's attention now. "Has he discussed his childhood with you?"

"Not in detail, really. Just comments here and there... and I had met his parents. Poor guy couldn't do anything right in their eyes. He was top in our class and they still couldn't say anything positive about him. He always seemed to be trying so hard to get their approval and it just wasn't going to happen." Chris pulled out a chair and sat down. "Martin's such a good person deep down but there aren't many people that will put forth the effort to get to know him that way. I'm really glad he has you, Louisa. Believe it or not, he's a much happier person since he met you." Chris sat quietly for a few moments before continuing. "Hang in there with him, Louisa. He's worth it."

"I'm not going anywhere, Chris. Not anymore. I'm really quite embarrassed by my behaviour... I was trying to run off to Spain... I could see he was struggling... Chris if I had actually gone through with it... taken James and left him..."

Louisa wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I don't think Martin could have handled it Chris... and I was going to do that to him!"

Chris came over and put his arms around her. "But you didn't. So you and Martin should leave that in the past and move on. Just don't forget the lessons learned... right?"

They heard Martin's footsteps on the stairs and Chris went to sit back down.

Martin walked back into the kitchen with James in his arms, the pride he felt in his son written on his face.

"Wow, he's really grown since I saw him last. Looks like he's going to take after you, Mart. Big hands already. I never could understand how you could get those paws to do the delicate work required of a vascular surgeon."

"Hmm. Chris, would you like to stay for supper?"

"Thanks, but I think I better get home to my wife. She hasn't seen much of me lately and has started to complain a bit! It was great to see both of you though. Don't be strangers if you ever find yourself in Truro."

Martin hurried ahead to get the door. "Ah Chris, thank you for stopping to give me the news. It's a relief to hear it."

"Yeah, it was for me too, mate."

"I really like your friend, Martin," Louisa said after her husband had closed the door behind Chris.

"Mmm, we've known each other a long time."

"Well, he obviously cares about you."

They walked to the kitchen and Louisa leaned over to put James in his highchair, then turning to Martin asked, "What news was it that you were thanking Chris for?"

Martin reached out to play with a fork on the table. "Ah, I had to take certain measures at the hospital... before your surgery. It might have been seen by some as atypical operating theatre etiquette. The governing board looked at what had transpired and decided last night that no measures would be taken against me."

Louisa looked at him quizzically. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not really", Martin said as he scrutinized his shoes.

Louisa folded her arms across her chest and shot Martin the look he knew to mean "spill it".

"I determined that the surgeon who was going to be conducting your procedure was not competent... I locked him in a storage closet" Martin spun the fork slowly back and forth.

Louisa tried to stifle the giggle that was struggling to escape, resulting in a small snort instead. She clamped her hand over her mouth and turned her back to her husband until she regained her composure.

Walking over to Martin, she put one arm around his neck and stretched up to kiss him. "Why would a lady need a knight in shining armor when she has a surgeon with a broom cabinet?"

"Storage closet."

*CCG- Clinical Commissioning Group (formerly the PCT) The country of England is divided into 211 areas, each represented by a CCG. The groups are charged with overseeing GPs, consultants and hospitals, with each group caring for an average of 226,000 people. Every GP in England belongs to a CCG.


	13. Chapter 13

Having put the baby to bed, Martin and Louisa were on the couch, Louisa laying with her head in Martin's lap. Martin was catching up on the latest medical developments in the BMJ and Louisa was once again trying to read the book she had started several weeks ago. Focusing on her book was proving difficult, however, as her mind kept wandering to her conversation with Chris Parsons earlier that afternoon. Chris had said that he'd tried to talk to Martin once about the way his parents were with him... his past, but that Martin said he didn't dwell on those things. He had used similar words in talking with her once... before they were married. She was worried about what she was doing with her life... where it was going. When she asked Martin if he worried about his life he said, '_I tend not to dwell on those_ _things'_. How long, she wondered, had he been going through life shutting things out. She hoped it wouldn't be like opening Pandora's Box if he did begin to 'dwell on things'.

Louisa rubbed her husband's knee. "Martin, do you think you might talk with Dr. Newell about the nightmares you've been having? I think it would be a good idea".

"Hmm. It's likely just stress, Louisa"

"But if it's more than that... don't you think it would be good for Dr. Newell to know about it?"

Louisa looked up at Martin, watching his face and trying to decipher what might be going through his head at the moment. "Will you please talk to him... for me?"

Martin sighed deeply and blinked his eyes slowly as if trying to erase the conversation from his mind. Several seconds passed before he looked down at her. He gazed into her pleading eyes. "I will if you want me to".

He was rewarded with a warm smile. "Thank you, Martin."

Louisa laid her book on the floor and reached up, tugging the BMJ from Martin's hands. "Will you go upstairs with me?"

"Are you tired already?"

Louisa began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Martin, don't be obtuse", she whispered in his ear.

"Louisa, we shouldn't... you have a fractured clavicle."

"I think we can work around that Martin", she said as she began to loosen his tie.

"Louisa, please don't. I just... I'm not in the right frame of mind right now."

"Hmm, let's see if I can do something about that then", she said as she slipped a hand inside his shirt and began to caress his chest.

Martin grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him. "Louisa, I said no!"

Martin could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He was worried about her fractured collar bone but there was more to it. He just couldn't be intimate with her right now.

He tried to soften his tone. "Louisa... not now. And please, don't take it personally... it's just... not now."

Louisa could see the desperation in his eyes. "Alright Martin, but haven't you been missing me in that way at all? Missing us being..." There was a look of resolve on his face and she knew he wasn't going to be persuaded. "Forget it then, Martin."

Martin watched her as she disappeared up the stairs, her ponytail swinging angrily behind her. He closed his eyes and fell back against the couch. 'God, what's wrong with you Ellingham!'

As Martin drove along the Truro Road on Wednesday, he was regretting that he had told Louisa he would talk to Dr. Newell about the nightmares that had been plaguing him. They had been different lately. His earlier nightmares had been clear and focused recalls of past memories. Not pleasant memories, just a replay of memories he had always lived with. The recent nightmares had been taunting. Just giving him glimpses of the whole story. It was the uncertainty about them that made him uncomfortable.

Dr. Newell wasted no time in bringing up the discussion that had transpired on Friday. "You likely found the afternoon to be very exhausting and difficult. How did you sleep that night?"

Martin rubbed his thumb against the opposite palm, trying to avoid eye contact with his doctor. "I came down with a virus so of course I didn't sleep well", he said with a bit of tetchiness in his voice.

"Hmm, I'm sorry to hear that. Better now, I hope?"

"Yes, it had run it's course by Monday morning. A number of my patients were in this week with similar symptoms."

"Those kinds of bugs do like to make the rounds."

"Martin, I suspect from what you have said in the little time we've had together that you've had a pretty difficult relationship with your parents. I would like to explore that some more. You're mother was here for a visit recently, which obviously did not go well. Do you remember a time when you got on better with her?"

"No... she never really had much to do with me. I had nannies for the first years of my life... then I was sent to boarding school. I didn't really see much of my mother. Like I said on Friday, she never wanted children so she didn't spend much time with me."

"What approach did your parents have to discipline?"

Dr. Newell could see that Martin was struggling with how to answer the question. "Compare it for me to how you intend to discipline your own son?"

Martin tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "Louisa and I love our son very much and any disciplinary measures we take will come from that love for him. Not from anger or hatred."

"And how did the discipline you received differ from that? Can you remember any specific incidents from your childhood?"

Martin stood up and walked to the window. "I was remembering recently, a time when I had ignored my grandfather's admonitions and picked up a valuable pocket watch so that I could look at it. I was curious when I was young and just couldn't resist. My father caught me with it in my hand. He had a very loud voice and when he yelled at me, I was startled and dropped the watch and it broke. My grandfather forgave me but Dad was furious... dragged me to the shed by my collar and beat me with his belt."

Martin turned around and looked at Dr. Newell with fury on his face. "And I will never... EVER... lay an angry hand on my son!"

Dr. Newell leaned back in his chair and toyed with the pen in his hand. "How do you think your father's approach to discipline affected how you look at yourself?"

Martin stood still, staring at the doctor.

"Martin?"

Dr. Newell watched Martin closely. Seconds passed before the man again spoke to him. "Martin, are you with me?"

Martin moved back to his chair and sat stiffly into it. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear the question."

"I was wondering if you think your father's approach to discipline affected how you see yourself. Do you think it had a negative effect on you?"

Martin closed his eyes briefly and tried to shake the fog from his head. " I can be fearful of making mistakes. The thought of making a mistake causes me a lot of anxiety. Uhm, I guess I worry about whether I'll be judged fairly... if I'm going to be seen as being at fault no matter what I do".

"What about your mother? Did she handled any of the discipline?"

Martin took in a deep breath and blew it out his nose and shifted nervously in his chair. "Not much really. Just time outs."

"So she would sit you down on a chair for a period of time?"

Martin stood up and walked back to the window. "There was a cupboard under the stairs. That's where I spent time outs."

"And what prompted the time outs. What type of infractions?"

"Mostly bed-wetting but sometimes I think I just wasn't listening or I was getting underfoot."

Newell swiveled slowly back and forth in his chair. "Do you think the punishment fit the crime?"

"I think I could be a troublesome child and probably had it coming sometimes. I'm sure I drove my parents crazy with all the questions I asked."

"And do you think your misdeeds justified the punishments you received?

Martin furrowed his brow in deep thought. "I'm not sure."

"It might be helpful for you if you could take yourself out of the equation. Over the next week, I'd like for you to picture these disciplinary measures being meted out, but I want you to imagine your son being the one punished. Think about how fair or unfair the discipline seems to be. And then I want you to imagine yourself as the disciplinarian... would the same punishment seem fair or unfair to your son."

Dr. Newell cleared his throat before beginning to speak again. "Martin, I need to be very clear with you about what you can expect with our upcoming sessions. You will be confronted with some very disturbing memories from your past and those memories can trigger very strong reactions. That's to be expected. I don't want you to feel you need to apologise for those reactions or to be embarrassed by them. I'm sure that, as a surgeon, you have heard patients cry out in pain. I know you wouldn't think less of them for _that_ reaction. You should be as generous with yourself while you work through all of this.

I also want to caution you that you need to keep this in mind when you get in your car to drive home. If you're feeling shaky, let me know and we'll find another way to get you back to Port Wenn. I gave you an assignment for this week... I want you to wait until you are safely at home before doing this. Maybe find a quiet room in the house where you can be alone."

Newell put his hands together and pronounced the session over. Martin hurried to his car... he was looking forward to getting home... to Louisa.


	14. Chapter 14

Louisa heard the jingling of Martin's keys and quickly picked James up out of his high chair and hurried to meet her husband at the door. Martin looked very tired but happy to see them. James reached his chubby arms out to his father and squealed in delight. Martin took the baby's hand in his and caressed the back of it with his thumb before brushing his fingers up the boys cheek.

"How was the trip? Any traffic trouble?"

"No, it was fine. Good really. I'm, ah... going to go shower."

"Alright, dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Louisa watched her husband as he walked away from her, his tall frame and broad back hiding the fragile little boy inside. She was thankful that Martin seemed reasonably open with Dr. Newell... at least as emotionally open as she had ever seen him. Her heart felt heavy at the thought that he may never really be comfortable confiding in her again. She might have to be content to be witness to his disclosures with the therapist. Trust can be so easily lost, and once it is... so difficult, if not impossible to find again.

Martin sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks. He sat staring across the hall into James' room. He tried to picture a seven year old James in his memory instead of himself... reaching for his grandfather's pocket watch...mesmerised by it's perfect intricacy. The soft ticking being abruptly displaced by the roar of his father's angry voice... the awful feeling of his heart skipping a beat before racing to catch back up again. He visualised the watch falling through the air while a young James stood helplessly... watching as it hit the floor, breaking in two... seeing the shame on his son's face as his grandfather approached. However, Martin could not bring himself to finish the task assigned by Dr. Newell. His subconscious would not allow his father's unkind hand to hit his son.

Martin didn't know how long he had been sitting there on the bed, but when he returned to the present he rubbed his eyes to try to erase the distressing images from his mind and he felt tears on his cheeks.

Louisa waited patiently while they ate their dinner in relative silence, Martin not mentioning the session with his therapist. Later that evening James played contentedly on the floor while his father wrote on patient notes and his mother read. Louisa watched Martin as he periodically gazed at James with an unfocused stare. She heard him let out a slow sigh before going to gather his son into his arms.

"I thought we'd take a short walk before bedtime."

Louisa smiled up at him from the couch. "That sounds nice, just let me grab a jumper."

A look of disappointment crossed Martin's face and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Mmm, yes."

It dawned on Louisa that maybe she wasn't intended to be included in this little outing and she hurried to cover her faux pax. "You know, on second thought, I think I'll sit this one out. I really should finish this marking and then I'll run James' bath so it's ready when you get back. That okay with you two?"

Martin answered with discernible relief, "Mmm, yes that's fine, we won't be long".

Martin tucked his little boy inside his suit coat and walked up the hill to the coastal path. Dusk was beginning to fall on the village. It was that lovely time of day when the blue sky is muted with grey and the daytime song birds have quieted and exited the stage, allowing the nighttime creatures to make their entrance. Martin found the bench he and Louisa had shared so many times and sat down with his baby son. It was so peaceful here with James, listening to the sound of the rhythmic waves lapping vigorously at the rocks below. He could feel James' warm, moist, breath brushing against his neck and he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for his parents. They had missed all this. But could they have found the same sense of peace and wonder in being close to him, _their_ son? It all seemed so natural to Martin. Why was it so impossible for his parents to love him? Was there an important piece missing in him? Something that, if there, would have allowed his parents to feel affection for him? This question had haunted him. Would Dr. Newell be able to answer it?

Martin hugged James closer to him and kissed the top of his fuzzy head, then stood to walk back down the hill to the surgery. He stopped before opening the door and looked down at the blonde, blue-eyed, perfect little boy in his arms. "I love you very much James, and I couldn't_ possibly_ be more proud to be your father".

Martin realised as he was preparing for bed that night that he had neglected to raise the issue of his sleep difficulties to Dr. Newell. Louisa had asked him to do so and he had forgotten. He didn't want her to have any doubt about the seriousness of his efforts to change. He'd always prided himself in his ability to retain information and to multi-task and the fact that he let this slip his mind made him uncomfortable. He should have remembered this.

After he crawled in under the blankets, he turned to Louisa and made his confession, "I'm sorry Louisa but it seems I forgot to mention my nightmares to Dr. Newell today. I'll tell him when we go for our session on Friday."

Louisa fought back her knee-jerk reaction to chastise Martin. "I think that should be fine. Nothing's likely to change between now and then is it?"

"I wouldn't think so."

Louisa leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Martin."

"Mmm, yes."

Louisa lay in bed feeling disappointed that Martin didn't share anything about his session today with her. She didn't expect him to pour his heart out to her but she had hoped he might give her some idea of what they had discussed. Her thoughts shifted to how she had reacted to Martin moments ago. Had she become like her mother... the constantly nagging wife, so quick to criticise? They would both have some things to discuss with Dr. Newell on Friday.

Thursday brought an assortment of patients and maladies to the surgery. Martin was still eating his breakfast when his meal was interrupted by the sound of banging on the front door. A fisherman had slipped on the deck of his boat, landing on a grappling hook. Martin immediately lost his breakfast as he peeled away the man's clothes, exposing the bloody wound in his left gluteal maximus. He treated the man's injury, jabbed him for tetanus, and sent him away with the fisherman who had brought him to the surgery. The man was instructed to stop at Mrs. Tishell's for crutches and an antibiotic. He would be off his feet for a good week to allow himself to heal properly.

The first patient was followed by a woman with strep throat, a child who had crammed a piece of a crayon in his nose, and an elderly man with the most disgusting case of nail fungus that Martin had ever seen.

By late afternoon, Martin had been vomited on twice by sick children and he had found himself hurling into the bin several times while trying to treat an assortment of grisly wounds. It had been a tiring day.

His last patient was Jim Hanley's boy, Evan. The child was presenting with a persistent, rattly cough. Martin pulled off the boys jumper and pulled up his vest before pressing the stethoscope to his chest. Glancing down, Martin noticed bruising on the child's wrist. He reached to take hold of Evan's hand so that he could examine the injury and the boy flinched noticeably. Martin returned his attention to the primary complaint, noting the distinct wheeze on exhalation.

Turning to the mother, Martin asked, "Has your son ever been treated for asthma?"

"No, but he always seems to be havin' a cough", the woman responded.

"I suspect Evan does have asthma that I think at the moment is being exacerbated by a touch of pneumonia. I'd like to get you set up with a nebulizer. It will help to reduce the inflammation and constriction in his airway. Wait here, please."

Martin walked briskly out to the reception area and over to Morwenna, who was finishing up with a phone call.

"Morwenna, I'd like you to get a nebulizer together for Evan Hanley, I think we have a spare in the storage cupboard. I'll send Mrs. Hanley out and I want you to show her how it works."

"Don't they go to the chemist's for those? Mrs. Tishell usually..."

"Just do it, Morwenna!"

"Right, Doc."

Martin walked back to the consulting room, ducking through the doorways. "Mrs. Hanley, please go out and see my receptionist. She'll show you how to use the nebulizer. I'll finish up here with your son."

Mrs. Hanley left the room, Martin closing the door behind her.

Turning his attention back to the child on the couch, Martin picked up the boy's vest and pulled it back on over his head.

"Evan, I'd like to take a look at that wrist of yours, alright?"

The boy hesitantly extended his arm.

Martin gently palpated Evan's wrist and hand, determining that there were no fractures. Martin looked at the boy's face, his eyes softening. "Can you tell me what happened there?"

Evan sat on the end of the exam couch, his feet swinging nervously back and forth. He shifted his gaze away from the doctor's before answering, "I fell... I... I was running... and I fell."

"Hmm, that doesn't look like the kind of bruising I would expect from a fall. Are you sure that's the way it happened?"

The boy nodded his head, trying to avoid eye contact with Martin.

"Evan, if you're hurt like this again, I want you to tell one of your teachers at the school. In fact, I want you to go right to Mrs. Ellingham. You can of course call me, or come to see me anytime, but it might be more convenient for you to see Mrs. Ellingham. She can let me know if you need my assistance."

Martin knelt down so that he could make eye contact with the child. "Alright?"

Evan nodded his head and Martin gave him a rare Dr. Ellingham smile.

"Okay, up you get then." Martin hoisted the boy onto the floor just as Mrs. Hanley came back into the room.

He handed the woman her son's jumper and walked with her out to the reception area. As Martin watched the young boy leave his office, a feeling of nausea and dizziness descended on him. He walked briskly to the consulting room, closed the door behind him, then grabbed the bin and vomited for the fourth time that day.


	15. Chapter 15

Martin and Louisa sat looking across the desk at Dr. Newell. The man smiled broadly at them as he made small talk before addressing the serious matter of their precarious union.

"I asked you last week to tell me what you felt were some strengths and weaknesses in your marriage. I would like to start this session by discussing what you each think you bring to the relationship, as individuals. Maybe think in terms of how you build the other up. For instance, Louisa, in what ways do you encourage Martin in areas where he excels... and in areas where he perhaps struggles a bit more?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure that Martin needs a lot of encouragement in the areas where he excels. He's the finest doctor I've ever known and is very well respected by his peers. He has a reputation for being one of the best vascular surgeons in the country! I guess when I've had the opportunity to witness some of his miraculous medical feats I've told him how brilliant I think he is... extraordinary really."

"And other areas in which he excels?"

"He's very good at repairing clocks. He just finished restoring his grandfather's old clock."

"And how do you encourage him with his hobby?"

Turning to address Martin he quickly added, "I'm making an assumption, Martin, that with a busy medical practice you don't have time for a second career fixing clocks. So you would consider this a hobby?"

"Mmm." Martin nodded his head as he picked a piece of imaginary lint off his trousers.

Newell looked back to Louisa, waiting for her to respond.

"Well, I don't really know that I can... or do... encourage him, I mean. He usually works on them in his office so I don't see him while he's involved with his clocks."

"Keep in mind that there are many ways that you and Martin can encourage one another. It can be as simple as showing an interest in what the other enjoys. Martin, if it's important to Louisa then it should be important to you and vice versa."

A memory came to Louisa of a morning shortly after their wedding when she had popped her head in the door of Martin's office. She had asked Martin what he was doing and he had invited her to come in and sit down so that he could explain to her about the broken clock part that he was fixing. Looking back on it now, she realised she had let an opportunity to encourage Martin slip by . She had interrupted his explaination to point out to him that it was their two week anniversary. Martin had keyed in on the misuse of a word, pointing out that it wasn't actually an anniversary, it was two weeks. She saw it as a minor historic occasion in their marriage. Yes, that was an instance when his literal nature caused her annoyance, but Martin was trying to share his interest in his hobby with her... really quite a historic occasion in itself she thought. She had quietly slipped out of the room as he was explaining the mechanics of the clock parts to her, probably sending the clear message that she didn't care.

Dr. Newell swiveled his chair to the left.

"How do you feel Martin when Louisa tells you she thinks you're a brilliant, even extraordinary doctor?"

"I'm not sure. I don't see myself that way so I don't know what to think when she says those things. I know that I'm a competent G.P. and I used to be a competent surgeon, but I never felt pride in being competent. It's what I would expect of any doctor or surgeon."

"Is there anything that Louisa does or says that makes you feel special, like you matter to her in a way that no one else does?"

Martin glanced over at his wife before redirecting his eyes to the floor. "When she smiles at me. There's a certain smile that she has when she looks at me sometimes. I've never seen that smile except when she looks at me. That makes me think I matter to her."

"And Martin, how do you make Louisa a stronger person... make her better... more well-rounded?"

Martin sat silent for an awkwardly long period of time, looking more and more discomfited as the seconds ticked by. He shook his head and mumbled something unintelligible.

Their therapist cocked his head, "I'm sorry Martin, I didn't catch that."

"Louisa's perfect the way she is. I don't know how I could make her better."

With tears moistening her eyes, a small smile graced Louisa's face.

Newell turned back to direct his attention to Louisa. "Did you know that Martin felt that way about you?"

"I think I did but maybe I have a tendency to take it for granted. I guess I know that's how he feels, but he doesn't say it. And Martin, sometimes you say such hurtful things to me that I forget that you really think of me that way. Or I choose to forget maybe so that I can feel angry at you for the unkind words. I'm not sure."

"Martin, why do you think it is that you don't tell Louisa how you feel about her?"

"She knows... she just said she knows! Why do people think they need to talk rubbish all the time?" Martin scowled absent-mindedly.

Dr. Newell drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk, "Why do you think people, as Martin so eloquently puts it, talk rubbish, Louisa? In what way would it strengthen your marriage if Martin were to verbalise his feelings to you?"

"It would reassure me that I haven't misinterpreted his actions... I wouldn't have to make assumptions which cause so many of our misunderstandings. I would know that he hasn't changed his view of me over time... and would just be very, very, nice to hear it... it would make me happy."

Martin looked at Louisa, wide-eyed.

"Can you see the logic in that, Martin?" Dr. Newell lowered his head and stared pointedly at Martin.

"Yes... it doesn't seem terribly difficult."

Louisa could see a slight look of amusement on the doctor's face in response to the very Martin-like answer to his question. Glancing at his watch Dr. Newell rolled himself back in his chair. "Well, I think we've covered enough territory for today. Next week I would like to take some time to talk about the ways each of you helps the other with their weaknesses. We all have them, don't we? Any further questions or comments from the two of you?"

Louisa sat, fiddling with the strap of her purse. "Dr. Newell, I've noticed recently that I can slip into a rather nagging and chastising way of talking to Martin, and sometimes I think I insist on him doing something just because I have to feel in control. It's so much like the way my mother used to be with my father. It made me cringe when she was like that with him and I feel awful when I find myself doing it with my husband. I know we're out of time today but could we discuss it next week?"

"Certainly, I'll make a note of it but don't hesitate to remind me if I should let it slip my mind. " He looked from Louisa over to Martin, "Anything else?"

Martin let out a resigned sigh before admitting to Dr. Newell that he had been troubled by nightmares. "I suspect it's stress, but I told Louisa I'd mention it."

"Are the nightmares keeping you from getting a good night's sleep?"

"It's been a very long time since Martin's had a good night's sleep, I'm afraid," Louisa interjected. "I'm really beginning to worry about him. He looks so tired."

Martin threw an irritated glance her way. "I'm fine, Louisa."

"Martin, let's make sure this is the first item of business at your appointment on Wednesday. It might be nothing more than a disruption in your sleep pattern, which a sleep aid would remedy. But, I don't want to prescribe anything until I'm sure that's all it is."

Dr. Newell stood and stretched his back slightly. "Anything else?"

Martin and Louisa looked at one another before shaking their heads.

"Alright, I will see you on Wednesday, Martin, and both of you next Friday then!"

Martin and Louisa walked hand-in-hand as they left the office. Martin veered suddenly and pulled Louisa towards a small wooded area next to the clinic. He gazed at her while swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat. "Louisa, you are perfection", he said hoarsely. Martin brushed a strand of hair off of her face before taking her chin in his hand and placing his lips against hers. Oh, this man could melt her heart!


	16. Chapter 16

Louisa watched her husband as he manoeuvered the car through the streets of Truro. "Martin, when we were at Dr. Newell's... I was thinking about the time you asked me to come into the consulting room so that you could show me what you were doing with the clock you were working on. Um... would you please try asking me again sometime?" Not getting a response from her husband she add, "I would like that".

"Mmm, it's really not that interesting to someone who doesn't enjoy clocks. I can understand why you might have found it rather tiresome," Martin said looking furtively out of the driver's side window.

"It wasn't that I found it boring, I was just upset that ..." Louisa let out a small groan. " It seems so silly of me now that I look back on it... verbalise it, but I was annoyed with you for picking at my incorrect usage of the word anniversary instead of hearing what I was trying to say."

"I didn't understand why our having been married for two weeks was significant... I wasn't sure what you wanted me to say. And, I thought you'd like to know that two weeks is technically not an anniversary... the word comes from the Latin word anni which means year, so..."

"Yes, Martin, I know!" Louisa let out a huff of air as her shoulders fell. "None of the anniversary stuff is important Martin. I'm trying to say I'm sorry and I wish I had handled things differently that morning. I missed out on a chance to have you share something with me... I threw away something very special and I'm sorry and I hope you will invite me into your office again sometime... to share your clocks." She watched his face for a reaction.

"Mmm." Martin stared out the windscreen. He always thought himself to be a rather boring person, and to be honest, he was quite accustomed to having people walk away as he was talking to them. Would she regret asking him to show her what he does with his clocks again. Would his dull hobby be another thing to add to the crap column?

"Um, would you like to stop and get something to eat tonight? There are one or two restaurants here that pass basic hygiene standards."

"That sounds lovely, Martin. Wherever you like is fine with me."

Martin chose a charming little out-of-the-way cafe on one end of the business district. The interior was bathed in the late day sunshine coming through the windows. Brightly coloured tablecloths adorned the tables, and small vases of white lilies sat in the centre of each one, waiting patiently for someone to sit and partake of their fragrance. The aroma of fresh baked bread filled the air.

They had ordered their dinner and sat for some moments in uncomfortable silence before Martin spoke. "I had a patient in my office yesterday that I'm concerned about... a young boy. His mother had brought him in for an unrelated medical problem. He had some suspicious bruises on his wrist. I could tell he wasn't giving me an honest answer when I questioned him about the injury, and..."

"You suspect abuse... one of my children?"

"Mmm, yes." Martin ran his finger around the rim of his glass of water, "I can't discuss my patients, but I told the boy to let you know if he was ever injured like this again... that you would tell me if he needed my assistance. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you, Martin. I'll call you right away if he should come in to see me."

"I'll plan on making some home visits during summer holiday, just to keep an eye on things."

"You are a very good and dedicated doctor, Martin. I wish the people in the village had a greater appreciation for what you do for them."

"I'd be happy if they would just follow my instructions now and then... perhaps wash their hands on occasion," he grumbled.

"Well, yes," Louisa replied, peering up at him as she spread her napkin on her lap.

The drive home from Truro was slow. By the time they had finished dinner and made it out of the city and onto the highway, the weekend traffic had hit it's peak. Therefore, by the time they arrived back at the surgery Aunt Ruth had already put James to bed. Al was stopping by Ruth's cottage to go over some B&B details so she was out the door and on her way shortly after Martin and Louisa arrived home.

As they lay in bed that evening Martin broached the subject of their AWOL childminder. "You know, Louisa, that we still need to find a replacement for Michael."

"Oh Martin," she groaned, "I'm too tired to have this discussion tonight. Can we talk about it in the morning?"

"Yes, but I don't think it would be wise to put it off any longer, Louisa. The summer holiday will be over before we know it and we'll be in the same unworkable situation that we were before if we don't have this sorted. Maybe we should each get some names together... a list of resources, before we sit down to discuss it."

"Yes, yes, yes. Now, I'm tired. Can we please go to sleep?"

"Mmm, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Martin"

"Next patient!" Martin yelled out as he sat at his desk the next morning. Mrs. Flinn, the mother of the temporary receptionist who had filled in during Pauline's absence several years before, walked through the door, limping noticeably.

"What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Flinn?"

"I rolled my ankle the other day Doc, and it just seems to be getting more and more painful."

"Take a seat on the couch and I'll have a look."

Martin pulled off the woman's shoe and sock and began to gently flex her foot up and down and side to side, watching her face for any reaction. She grimaced and pulled her foot back away from him.

"You have a significant amount of swelling and bruising in your foot and ankle, but as you seem to be able to bear weight on the foot it could just be a severe sprain. There may not be a fracture but I'm going to order an x-ray just to be sure. Based on the description of how your injury occurred, I'd like to rule out a Jone's fracture."

"What's that, Doc?"

"It's a fracture of the 5th metatarsal, the bone on the outside edge of your foot... it's in an area that has very little blood supply, making it likely that the fracture will not heal on it's own. Surgery is usually done, putting in a screw to pull the ends of the bone together so that you get a proper union. But again, it could very likely be a bad sprain that will heal with time and rest. We'll see what the x-rays show. Do you have someone who can drive you to Truro for the x-ray? You shouldn't be driving with your foot like that," he said as he handed Mrs. Flinn her shoe and sock.

"My Poppy can help. You remember her don't you Doc?"

"Mmm... blonde, weedy girl that likes to serve tea to my patients?"

"Yes, that's her!" Mrs. Flinn answered, smiling broadly. "She's home for awhile. Been lookin' for a job you know but not havin' much luck."

Martin glanced up quickly from the radiology request he was filling out. "Has she done any childminding?"

"Just about every weekend when she was a teenager!"

Martin handed the woman the request form. "Alright, Mrs. Flinn. Take this to the hospital with you and make sure you tell them to send the x-rays on to me."

Martin was relieved to have his Saturday morning over and done with and he, Louisa, and James were sitting down to lunch together when Ruth knocked on the door. Knocking was a courtesy never afforded Martin by Auntie Joan. Martin thought about the many times he bit his tongue with Joan. He was tempted on occasion to bark at her to knock before entering, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It would have sounded so much like his father and he didn't want to hurt Joan's feelings either. He really did miss her sudden entrances and her greetings... 'only me!'

"Ruth, come in!" Louisa gestured enthusiastically as the elderly woman came through the door. "We're just sitting down to lunch, can you join us?"

"Yes, for a few minutes. Just wanted to see how everyone was getting on over here."

Martin and Louisa exchanged glances. They knew that to mean, how are the therapy sessions going.

Martin didn't want to discuss it at the moment so he diverted the conversation. "We're fine, but we do need to be lining up a childminder. I actually had Mrs. Flinn in the surgery this morning and she mentioned that her daughter Poppy is looking for a job. She seemed reasonably adequate as a temporary receptionist when she filled in for Pauline several years ago."

"Oh, Martin! She would be perfect for James. She's such a sweet girl and quite intelligent as well. Did you ask her mother if Poppy might be interested?"

"No... I didn't want..." Martin didn't want to incur Louisa's wrath again by stepping over that precarious line between not doing enough and making too many decisions. That had happened with Michael and he had decided it was safer to let Louisa call Poppy if she was interested in pursuing it any further.

"Ah, no. I didn't ask. I thought it might make more sense for you to call and ask Poppy directly."

"I will call her... I'll call her this afternoon!" Louisa gave Martin one of her smiles that made him feel as if he mattered... and his chest swelled.


	17. Chapter 17

Louisa had called Poppy that afternoon. The girl sounded interested in a job as their childminder but Louisa was concerned that she might be a bit hesitant because of Martin. Her husband could have that effect on people. She and Poppy made arrangements to meet for lunch on Monday to talk things over, and Louisa was hopeful that she could convince her that Martin wasn't as threatening as people thought he was.

"Martin, do you think I could join the boys club for the walk tonight?" Louisa asked as they sat relaxing after supper.

Martin tilted his head and furrowed his brow slightly more than usual, "The boys club?"

"You and James. It's not that I mind it at all but you've taken James for a walk the past three nights. If you men are wanting your time together though, it's fine. I quite like that you have your special time with James."

"Hmm, I can discuss it with James and get back to you," Martin said without looking up from his BMJ. A few minutes later he took a sideways glance in Louisa's direction. She was watching him with a look of amusement in her eyes.

Martin had finished the article he was reading and went to gather James for their walk. "James, your mother says she'd like to join us tonight. What do you think... should we let her come along?"

James gurgled at the sound of his father's voice and Martin reached out to take Louisa's hand. "Alright, I think we can handle having a woman crashing the stag party. Best get your jumper though, it's a chilly evening."

They walked to the top of the hill together, hand in hand. They stood and looked out over the little village before Martin gestured to Louisa to take a seat on the bench. It felt heavenly for Martin to have the two loves in his life cuddled up to him this way. He breathed in the salt air and closed his eyes, relishing the moment.

Martin knew that Louisa had been avoiding asking questions about his last session with Dr. Newell and was likely wishing to have some information. He hesitantly began to open up to her about what had been discussed.

"Dr. Newell talked with me the other day about my parents," he said nervously. "Mostly about their disciplinary methods. He asked me to think about memories I have of being punished by them and to try to picture James in my place. He thought that by removing myself from the situation I might find it easier to be objective in deciding if the punishments were fair or not."

Louisa held Martin's arm a bit more firmly and watched the waves washing into the harbour, pausing briefly to dance with the little fishing boats bobbing on their moorings.

"I couldn't finish the assignment he gave me. I couldn't bring myself to picture Dad's hand hitting James."

Louisa laid her head on Martin's shoulder and she could feel his body trembling, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Louisa, I don't think I can do something else Dr. Newell wants me to do. I'm supposed to imagine myself being the person administering the discipline... the same punishments I received from my parents. I can't..." Martin fought to resist the sobs that were struggling to escape. He stood up from the bench and took several deliberate strides back towards the path before turning to face her. "And what Mum did... they were wrong Louisa, they were both wrong!"

James was unaccustomed to hearing Martin's raised voice and he began to cry and push away from his father. But Martin seemed oblivious to James's distress.

Reaching out, she encouraged her husband to hand her the little boy, "Martin, let me take James." Her voice was not registering with him.

Martin was becoming agitated and he began to pace back and forth. He held tight to James but his free arm gesticulated wildly. "All this time Louisa, I've blamed _myself_ for the punishments I received, that I must have deserved it, but it was them... _them_, not me! The beatings with Dad's belt, the welts that hurt for days afterwards... the hours locked in that cupboard feeling like I couldn't breathe, my body aching from being crammed in that small space! It wasn't fair... it _wasn't_ fair at all! **Damn them!**"

"Martin, please. Give me James." Louisa was becoming fearful for the baby wrapped tightly inside Martin's coat. She knew her husband would never intentionally do anything to hurt the boy but Martin seemed to be somewhere else... distant. She had never seen fury like this in him before.

Louisa walked over to Martin and stroked his arm. "Martin, look at me... look at me," she said softly. He quieted and his gaze shifted to her. "We should go home now."

Louisa took the baby from his arms then they walked back down the hill.

Martin had calmed down but wanted some time before coming in the house, so Louisa left him sitting on the terrace steps while she went in and put the baby to bed. Martin was still on the terrace when she came downstairs so she slipped out the door and joined him on the step.

"I'm sorry, Louisa. I am very, very sorry. I don't know why I got so... and James..." Martin pulled in a ragged breath, "Louisa, I think I really frightened James!"

Louisa rubbed her husband's back. "James is fine, Martin. He went right off to sleep."

"Louisa, I told myself that I would do whatever was necessary to change... so that we can be together. But I can't do this assignment. I just can't!"

"I think that's probably alright. I suspect Dr. Newell has already gotten the results he was hoping for don't you? You certainly see now that your parent's punishments weren't fair. Don't you think he just wanted you to be able to acknowledge that?"

Martin blinked slowly, "Mmm, maybe so."

"Would you like some tea or cocoa before we go to bed?"

"No... thank you. I'm quite tired actually."

"Hmm, I bet you are. Let's go then, shall we?"

As they lay curled up together in bed later, Martin thought about the episode at the top of the hill. Dr. Newell had warned him that he could have strong reactions when facing these issues from his past but it deeply distressed him to think that his rant had frightened his wife and son. And what if his behaviour had actually caused harm to James! Tomorrow was Sunday but first thing Monday morning he would call Dr. Newell and discuss this with him. He wouldn't risk anything happening to James or Louisa.

"Louisa, are you still awake?" Martin whispered.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry that I frightened you tonight. Dr. Newell told me on Wednesday that I could react emotionally to some of my memories, but I didn't expect anything like what happened tonight. Are you sure you want to have to deal with this? I'll certainly understand if you don't."

"Martin, I am very glad that you talked with me about what you've been going through the last several days. I could tell something was upsetting you but I didn't want to push you for information. I was so afraid that you might never trust me again. We're in this together. You were there for me one hundred percent when I had my accident, when you raced after me to get me off that plane, and when you locked that poor man in the closet before doing my operation. I know I haven't been there for you before now, but Martin, I want this marriage to work as much as you do. So, yes... I am _absolutely positive_ I want to deal with this."

Martin reached over to put an arm around Louisa's waist, "I'm going to call Dr. Newell on Monday morning to discuss what happened tonight. I can't bear to think that I could hurt James trying to resolve my own issues."

"That would be good. Now... goodnight Martin, I love you."

"Yes... I love you too."


	18. Chapter 18

"Martin... Martin wake up." Louisa shook her husband's shoulder, trying to rouse him from his nightmare.

Martin bolted out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Moments later Louisa could hear his retching sounds then the sound of running water. She felt the all to familiar sensation of anxiety, the feeling of total helplessness as she watched her husband struggling.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asked after Martin had laid back down in bed, his back to her. Watching him in the dim light of their bedroom, she could see him rubbing the side of his head in frustration.

"No, I can't tell you about it because none of it made any sense!" he snapped.

Martin lay silent for several minutes, and just when Louisa thought he had said all he was going to say, she heard his voice again, barely audible, "Just bits and pieces... flashes of images again. I felt overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do... I was afraid to make a move, but I don't know why. I started to remember something and then it just evaporated. When I woke up, I was nauseous and then went in and had to vomit."

Louisa reached over and massaged Martin's back for a few minutes, then leaned over and nuzzled her face into the side of his neck and kissed him. "I'm going to get you a dry shirt... you've been sweating, be right back."

She returned and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Martin. "Here, sit up and pull off those wet clothes and put these on," she said as she handed him a clean pair of boxers and a vest. She took his wet pyjamas and then tucked the blankets back around him. After hanging his pyjamas up in the bathroom she returned to their bed.

"Martin, I think Dr. Newell will be able to help you figure this all out. In the meantime, please let me be here for you... okay?"

Martin rolled over to face her and he cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm so sorry, Louisa. You didn't know this is what you were getting when you married me. I'm not the man you thought you were marrying and I'm not the man I wanted to be for you... and I don't know what to do about it. I want so much to make you happy but..."

"Ssh... Martin, you are trying so hard... you're doing your best. Try to be patient with yourself, I just know you'll get past this!"

Louisa traced little circles in his hair and gazed into his eyes... he looked like a frightened little boy... helpless against the murky memories that were torturing him.

Louisa's touches were so soothing to Martin and soon his eyelids became heavy and he dropped back off to sleep.

Ruth stopped in for a chat while Louisa was feeding James his breakfast on Monday morning. Martin had already started in with his morning schedule of patients.

Ruth wasn't one to tip-toe around an issue so she came straight to the point, "Martin didn't seem particularly communicative when I was here on Saturday so I thought I would try my luck with you today. How are his therapy sessions going, is all as the two of you expected?"

"Uh, cuppa for you Ruth?"

"That would be lovely dear"

Louisa grabbed another tea cup and placed it in front of Ruth before filling it for her. She sat down opposite Martin's aunt, and then giving her a bit of a smile Louisa tried to enlighten the woman without divulging any information that Martin might consider too personal to share.

"I think it's been an especially hard week for Martin. His doctor gave him a difficult assignment to do and it's resulted in some rather emotional responses. He was with James and me during one of these episodes and I have to say, I found it rather frightening. He was very upset and when I tried to get him to calm down, it was as if he didn't hear me... or see me even. He seemed to be in his own world. He's making a call to Dr. Newell this morning to discuss it with him. I think Martin is genuinely concerned about whether James is safe around him."

"It's called dissociation."

Louisa looked at Ruth, perplexed.

"What you saw happen with my nephew the other night... In Martin's case, it's a coping mechanism... a defense mechanism that his mind is using to minimize, or more correctly, to tolerate the stress he's feeling when confronting his memories. He's not aware that this is happening so he probably feels a loss of equilibrium afterwards. A sense that there's a gap in time for him."

"I've never heard of it before, is this common with stressful incidents?"

"No, it's usually the memory of a rather traumatic event that triggers this sort of reaction. In Martin's case, remembering punishments he received."

Louisa wiped tears from her cheeks. "Oh Ruth, it seems like Martin's being punished all over again for what Christopher and Margaret did to him."

Ruth toyed with her cup, "What has Martin told you about his memories?"

Louisa reached over to hand James his green frog. "I'm not sure how much of what he told me I should be sharing with you. It might be better if you could get Martin to talk to you about these things." Louisa looked more directly at Ruth before continuing, "I just can't risk losing Martin's trust again, Ruth. I suspect he wouldn't mind your knowing these things but I'd rather let that be his decision to make, I'm sorry."

"No, no." Ruth waved her hand reassuringly, "Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have asked. I'm concerned about my nephew, but you're right, these are things I should be asking Martin."

"I'll ask Martin about how much he wants me sharing with you, but I want to wait until he seems to be feeling more secure with me again."

"Certainly, dear. Louisa, I'm very glad that he's confiding in you... he needs someone."

Ruth placed her palms on the table and asked, "Did you get your childminder situation sorted yet?"

"No, I'm meeting Poppy for lunch today. Hopefully, I can convince her that she doesn't need to be afraid of your nephew!"

"Well, good luck with that! I really must go, I just wanted to check in. Please keep me informed of how Martin is doing, Louisa." Ruth moved towards the door but turned and added, "I hope you will never doubt Martin's love for you. What he's doing to preserve this marriage is far from easy. It must be quite terrifying for him actually, but I saw the desperation on his face the day you left with James... he will do whatever is necessary to keep from losing you."

Martin stood by Morwenna's desk. "Whose next?" he said holding his hand out for the patient notes.

"Chippy Miller is comin' in at half ten but you gotta a break til then. Good time to make yourself a cuppa coffee, Doc!"

"Mmm," Martin grunted. I have a phone call to make. Please make sure I'm not disturbed."

"Sure, Doc."

Martin dialed Dr. Newell's number. "This is Dr. Ellingham, I need to speak to Dr. Newell."

"Ach!" Martin grimaced as the woman on the other end of the line put him on hold. He rolled his Biro back and forth on his desk.

"Yes, Dr. Newell. Thank you for taking my call..."

Martin finished his conversation with the doctor fifteen minutes later and rolled his chair back away from his desk, swiveling to turn and gaze out the window. Dr. Newell certainly didn't give him any assurances that he had seen the last of the unsettling incidents like he experienced Friday night. Nor could he assure him that James was indeed safe that night. He would have to research what his doctor said was a dissociative episode to better understand what was going on. Martin was feeling very discouraged. How long would it take to unearth the root problem causing all of his sleep disturbances and emotional withdrawal? Was he ever going to see improvement? Dr. Newell tried to be encouraging but would make no guarantees.

Martin went back out to the reception room and picked up the patient notes off of Morwenna's desk. "Mr. Miller, come through please." Chippy rose stiffly from his chair and followed the doctor into the consulting room, Martin closing the door behind him.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Miller?"

"It's my back, Doc. It's been givin' me trouble since I wrenched it pickin' up a crate off the deck of my boat."

"How long ago was that?"

"Last Thursday, I think. Hard to remember fer sure."

Martin walked around behind Chippy and squatted down slightly while he palpated the muscles in the man's back.

"Hmm, you've strained a muscle. What have you been taking for the pain... paracetamol?"

"Yeah, Doc, and I been icin' it too."

Martin moved back around his desk and reached for his prescription pad. "You've done all the right things but you'll need a muscle relaxant as well as something stronger for the pain. I'll write you a prescription, Mrs. Tishell will have it for you... and keep up with the ice."

"Thanks, Doc."

As Chippy headed for the door Martin stood up and cleared his throat, "Um, Mr. Miller... I would like to thank you for the assistance you gave me down by the pub awhile back. I don't know who the other men were but I would appreciate it if you could pass my thanks along to them as well."

"It was nothin', Doc. You've helped most of us out a time or two... and yer one-a us now ya know."

Chippy turned and left the consulting room leaving Martin wondering about what the fisherman had said. When had become one of them?


	19. Chapter 19

Louisa and James arrived at Bert's restaurant and found Poppy already sitting at a table.

"Poppy! It's so nice to see you again!" Louisa leaned over and gave the girl a one-armed hug.

"Hi Miss Glasson!"

"It's Mrs. Ellingham now, Poppy."

The girl pulled up her shoulders and she blushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry, Mrs. Ellingham."

"It's okay Poppy. I'm still getting used to it, too."

Louisa pulled the push chair closer to the girl, "And this... is James! Can you say hi to Poppy, James?"

James' face lit up and he gave Poppy a broad grin.

"Hi James. You have a cute smile." Looking up at Louisa she asked, "How old is he?"

"Almost a year, we haven't even begun to think about how we're going to celebrate though, have we James?"

The baby grabbed for the bracelet on his mother's wrist as a string of spittle dribbled from his lower lip.

"Well, should we order our lunch and then talk business?" Louisa suggested.

Bert sidled up next to Poppy and leaned over to tickle James under his chin.

"What can I get you lovely ladies today? I can recommend the roast chicken or perhaps the quiche, and of course we have our signature salads if you would prefer something a bit on the lighter side."

"Hmm, I think the quiche sounds lovely, Bert. What about for you, Poppy? Order anything you like... its my treat."

"I think I'll have the chicken, please."

"Poppy and I are discussing the possibility of her taking a job as our childminder, Bert. I think she would be perfect!"

Bert patted the girl vigorously on the back, "Well, I have to hand it to you there, girl. Don't know that there are many in this village that are brave enough to face up to our doc everyday... be responsible for his little lad. The doc goes through childminders like I go through Jammie Dodgers!" Bert's jowls shook as he laughed.

Louisa groaned inwardly, "Thank you, Bert. I think we should discuss this privately now if you don't mind... we'll be looking forward to our lunch though!"

"Oh sure, Louisa. I'll go and get right on that. Didn't mean to discourage you girl, the doc isn't half as scary as you think, just a little rough around the edges is all."

"Thank you, Bert... that will be all!" Louisa silently cursed the portly restauranteur.

Bert waddled off and Louisa gave Poppy an uncomfortable smile. "So, Poppy... Martin says you've been looking for a job but not having much luck?"

"Right, there don't seem to be very many good jobs available right now... so I'm staying at Mum and Dad's until I can find something." Poppy wiggled her foot back and forth nervously.

"Well, my husband was quite happy to hear that you might be interested in being James' childminder. He _is_ very protective of his little boy and would never have recommended you to me if he didn't think you would do a good job."

Louisa felt a bit guilty for her slight fabrication. Martin hadn't exactly recommended Poppy but he wasn't vehemently opposed to her either, as he had been with past childminders.

Bert returned with their food and Louisa headed off anymore 'helpful' remarks by asking him about his new marriage.

"How are you and Jenny doing, Bert? Are enjoying married life?"

"Oh, my Jenny is a doll, Louisa... an absolute doll she is!"

"I'm so happy for both of you, Bert!"

"Well, I'll leave you to it then... enjoy!"

Louisa watched Bert as he walked away, then diverted her attention back to Poppy.

"So, Poppy... do you think you would be interested in a job as our childminder?"

Poppy shifted uncomfortably in her chair and stuffed her hands under her thighs. "Um, I'm not sure. Would Dr. Ellingham be around very much or would it just be James and me?"

Louisa smiled understandingly at the girl, "I know that Dr. Ellingham can come across as being rather gruff, but don't let him fool you. He's really quite tender on the inside." She leaned forward, glanced quickly around her before adding, "Just don't let that get out, he works very hard to maintain his surly image."

The two women had finished the meal and Poppy had still not given Louisa an answer. "Poppy, how about we try things out this Friday? Martin and I have to be in Truro for something and we could use a childminder then. Would you be willing to give it a try?"

"Um, alright."

Louisa breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Great! Could you plan to come to the surgery at 2:00? That would give me a chance to go over James' routine with you."

"Alright, two o'clock!" Poppy's face seemed to have brightened now that she had made her decision.

"Just come to the back door, that way you won't have to walk through a reception room full of patients." _And_ _maybe also avoid any unfortunate encounters with Martin_, thought Louisa.

Martin had finished with his last appointment and was filing patient notes when Louisa came into the reception room carrying James Henry. He gave the baby's cheek a quick brush with the back of his fingers. I just need to sign some prescriptions and then I'll be done for the day.

"Good, we've missed you, haven't we James!" Louisa looked closely at Martin, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he responded with an edginess in his voice.

"You look very tired, Martin."

Martin turned and walked off briskly to his consulting room to finish up with his paperwork. Louisa watched him apprehensively, sensing that something was amiss. She and James returned to the kitchen and finished up with the dinner preparations. When Martin entered the room a short while later, Louisa walked over to put her arms around her husband.

Martin pushed her hands away, "Louisa, please... I'm tired."

"Fine, Martin, " Louisa said as she turned back to preparing the meal. Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes.

Martin blew out a heavy sigh, "I'm going to take a quick shower."

Louisa watched as he disappeared under the stairs. Her heart ached for him, she knew the war that must be raging inside of him, but she couldn't help the hurt she felt when he pushed her away. It was hard to not feel unwanted.

Martin climbed the steps to their bedroom and sat down on the bed, removing his coat and tie. There was so much emotion inside of him wanting to come out but he felt he needed to keep it bottled up. He didn't want Louisa to see him falling to pieces... to upset James. And where in this little village of the damned was he to go to be alone?

Martin had finished with his shower and he knew he now had to go back downstairs to face the wife whose affections he had rebuffed earlier, no doubt leaving her in a less than charitable mood.

Louisa tried not to make eye contact with her husband, she just couldn't bear to see that hardened look in his face right now. They sat and ate quietly, the silence interrupted only by James' occasional babbles.

"I'll do the dishes tonight," Martin offered, hanging his suit coat over the back of a chair. "You go and relax."

Louisa managed a weak smile before settling James on the floor with his toys and retiring to the couch.

Martin made quick work of the dishes then turned to Louisa. "Um, I'm going for a walk, I need some fresh air... be back in a while."

Martin moved quickly out the door, Louisa's reminder to take his coat left unheard.

Martin just had to get away on his own for a bit to try to quiet his mind. He climbed the hill to the coastal path and kept on walking. There were so many conflicting feelings churning away in him at the moment and he didn't know where to begin to deal with them. Worry, fear, discouragement, love for his family, hatred for his parents, the pride he felt in his son... Martin's breathing became more rapid as he fought to keep it all from spilling out. He walked faster and faster until he found himself at the farm. He sat in the gazebo looking out at the sea, now illuminated by the moonlight, and realized he was finally alone. He felt his self-restraint slipping and the emotions began to cascade out in great sobs. A long time passed before he felt the sobs wither into whimpers. He drew in long breaths of air, trying to control the attacks of ragged inhalations. He sat listening to the sound of the nighttime silence and thought about Auntie Joan. How wonderful it would feel to have her reassuring arms around him again... to have her words of wisdom to show him the way. But she was gone, and he had finally admitted to himself that he had grown up an emotional orphan. He had been blessed with parents who seemed to vacillate between loathing him and being blissfully unaware of his existence. Somehow he needed to figure out how to let the baggage of that old life go so that he could start anew with James and Louisa. He began his walk back home, suddenly becoming aware that he had been sitting at the farm far longer than he realised.

Martin had been gone a very long time and Louisa was worried. There was now a chilly rain falling and he wasn't dressed for the weather. She tried to reach him on his mobile but he didn't answer. She thought about calling Ruth to see if he was with her but it was getting late and she didn't want to risk waking her unnecessarily. Finally, she heard the door open and she hurried out to meet her husband.

"Martin! I was so worried! Where have you been?"

Martin felt a mix of shame and embarrassment as Louisa clutched onto him.

"I'm sorry, I went for a walk to clear my head. I must have lost track of the time."

"Martin, it's been hours! What were you thinking? I didn't know what to..." Louisa stopped talking when she looked up at his face. He was soaking wet, his eyes were red and swollen and he looked totally drained. She took hold of his hand and felt his icy fingers. "You're freezing, Martin. Go up and get out of those wet clothes, dry your hair and then come back down. I'll have some hot tea ready for you."

Martin did as he was told, pulling his tie free and peeling off his wet shirt and vest. He pulled his trousers halfway down and sat on the bed to remove his shoes and socks. Suddenly, his fatigue overwhelmed him and he let his body fall back onto the bed. Louisa came up shortly to check on her husband and found him half undressed and sound asleep. She pulled his trousers off and did her best to swing his legs up onto the bed with the rest of him, then she pulled a blanket up over him and went back downstairs to turn out the lights and lock the doors. She came back with a towel and dried his hair the best she could before crawling in next to him.


	20. Chapter 20

When Louisa opened her eyes the next morning Martin was looking back at her.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly.

Louisa beamed back at him, "Thank you, Martin. I do love to hear you say that."

"Mmm, I'll remember that." Martin filed it in his mental list of endearments to be used at a later date.

Louisa hesitated, uncertain as to whether she should ask Martin about the previous night.

"You went to bed wet last night, you know." She tried to smooth the hair that was sticking up on the top of his head.

"Mmm, yes. Sorry about that... I guess I fell asleep."

Louisa smiled at the image of her husband crashed on their bed, halfway undressed.

"If I hadn't been so worried about you I might actually have found it rather amusing... Martin, will you please tell me where you were last night... what happened?"

Martin rolled over onto his back and put an arm up over his head, closing his eyes momentarily while he collected his thoughts.

"I had to get out... someplace where I could be alone. I talked with Dr. Newell yesterday and he wasn't as encouraging as I'd hoped he would be."

"So are you trying to say you needed to be by yourself so that you could blow off some steam without anyone seeing you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Where did you go? You were gone a very long time."

"I was going to go up to the top of the hill... sit on the bench, but I had so much pent up energy I just kept on walking. Eventually, I found myself at the farm. I sat in the gazebo and..."

Louisa watched her husband intently, his eyes refusing to make contact with hers.

"Did you feel better after you had a good cry?"

Martin turned his head away and mumbled, "I don't think I said anything about that."

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry, I just assumed... I guess that's what I would have done."

"I thought about Auntie Joan..."

"Martin, I know how much you must miss her. I'm glad you had the time you did with her when you were a boy... had someone that loved you."

"Mmm, me too."

Louisa propped herself up on her elbow, "What did Dr. Newell say that discouraged you, Martin?"

Martin let out a soft groan, "He couldn't assure me that James would be safe with me if I should have another episode like I had Friday night... that I'm probably not aware of my actions when that happens. That it would be best if I waited until James has gone to bed to talk about things with you. Louisa, what if you hadn't asked to walk with us last night and it had just been James and me..."

He paused and ran a hand across his face, "I asked him when I could expect to see my issues begin to resolve and he couldn't give me any idea whatsoever. He couldn't tell me how much improvement I could expect to see either. He's hopeful but won't make any promises."

Martin turned to look at his wife, "What if I'm never able to be happy... to make you happy?"

Louisa could see how disheartened her husband was feeling and didn't know what to say to try to bolster his spirits.

"Martin, you have to try to stay positive. I know the last two weeks have been very hard but you've seen progress already... you realise now that you didn't deserve the treatment you received when you were young."

"I'm not sure that's progress."

He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, "What did Poppy have to say about childminding?"

Martin had obviously closed the door to any further discussion about himself.

"She's definitely interested. I asked her to watch James while we're in Truro on Friday. She'll make a decision about whether she wants to be our permanent childminder based on how that goes... so Martin, please be on your best behaviour."

Martin gave her the look of total befuddlement that he had mastered over their years of botched conversations.

"I mean it Martin, don't you dare do anything to scare that girl away! She's really very shy so please, please, be nice."

"What do you mean?" Martin replied with sincerity.

"Try not to be so gruff and don't lecture her or criticise her. And above all, don't yell at her. If there's something you're concerned about or don't like, tell me and I'll discuss it with her."

Martin pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at the ceiling in an obvious pout. Louisa giggled and swung her leg up and over her husband, climbing on top of him. She sat, perched astride his lap and leaned over to kiss his bare chest.

"Oh, Martin. Please don't take it like that. This is just one of those things you struggle with and I'm asking you to let me handle it."

Louisa gazed down at the nearly naked man lying beneath her and she felt a surge of emotions.

"You know, I haven't had the pleasure of waking up to you dressed in nothing but your boxers in a very long time," she said huskily.

Her hand that had been resting on his shoulders began to move south, pausing to caress his chest. Her finger traced it's way down the middle of his abdomen before stopping to tease the elastic band of his pants. She leaned over and pressed her lips firmly against his, relishing their fullness.

Martin found himself responding to her ministrations, pressing back against her lips, his hands being drawn to her feminine places. She felt so magnificent... her warmth and softness... her tender touch on his skin. Her beauty took his breath away... the gentle curves of her breasts and hips... her shining chestnut hair cascading over her delicate shoulders. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her sweet essence. Then he shut his eyes tightly to the outside world, focusing his thoughts entirely on Louisa, exquisite images of her body moving above him blending with the physical sensations she was stirring in him.

Martin was lost in her completely when the wonderful thoughts he was savoring were penetrated by the disturbing images of his nightmares. He blinked his eyes, frantically trying to displace them, but they had already marred the moment . He longed to make love to his beautiful wife, but his normal male response was now failing him. Martin pushed her away in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Louisa... it's just not... happening."

Louisa watched her husband, startled by the abruptness of his withdrawal. He flung an arm up over his face to hide his embarrassment. It suddenly dawned on her why Martin had been brushing off her attempts to ignite a fire in him.

She stretched out next to him and lightly stroked his chest. "Martin, it's alright you know... with me. I do miss being intimate with you but I can wait until you're ready for it again."

Martin turned his head away from her before responding, "Mmm, I'll go shower then take care of James."

Louisa watched as he walked away from her, his emotions yet again left unexpressed.


	21. Chapter 21

"So Martin, I said we should address the issue of your nightmares first thing today, so why don't you tell me about what's been happening... when did they start... how frequent are they..." Dr. Newell rolled his chair back and crossed his ankles.

"It started about ten months ago... they were occasional then but they've increased in frequency in the last couple of months."

"Do remember very much about them after you wake up?"

"They've changed lately. The early dreams were like replays of old memories, events I was aware of... but lately they've been more disturbing. I get glimpses... flashes of images."

Martin shook his head as if trying to clear the fog from his brain. "I wake up feeling frightened... panicky really. I feel like I've been cornered by something and there's no way out... no way to turn that will lead to safety."

Dr. Newell tapped his pen against his lips, "Do you remember any shapes, colors... or are any of your other senses involved?"

Martin put on his best scowl before snapping back at the man, "I don't know! It's so confusing... don't you think I've tried to remember more? It feels like these images are taunting me... its very frustrating. The harder I try to remember the farther away I seem to push them."

"Louisa said last week that she's concerned about your lack of sleep. Are you having difficulty falling asleep?"

"Yes... I think I get anxious about the nightmares, so I lay awake thinking about it... worrying about it... and then when I do get to sleep I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart racing."

The doctor pulled his chair up to his desk and leaned towards Martin, "I'd like you to answer some questions, Martin. It's a short written test to see how you're functioning in day-to-day life."

The doctor pulled out a booklet from the stack of papers on his desk.

"Oh, gawd." Martin groaned.

Dr. Newell grinned at his patient, "I see you're familiar with Beck's Depression Inventory."

"Yes, I can save you some time and tell you my score if you like, or we can continue on, as usual, like a couple of utter morons."

"Let's continue on like utter morons, Martin."

The man handed Martin a questionnaire and a pencil and asked him to complete it. Martin pulled a face but took the pencil and packet and proceeded to answer the questions. When he finished he handed it back to Dr. Newell.

Dr. Newell flipped through the inventory before looking back up at Martin. "Well, as you know, your results put you solidly in the moderate depression category, so let's talk about how to proceed from here. Are you open to trying medication?"

"If you think that's my only option then I guess I have to be."

Dr. Newell let out a small sigh of frustration with his patient. "You know that's not your only option, Martin. However, if you're interested in my opinion, I would suggest that medication is your _best_ option. I'm going to write a prescription for a sleep aid as well." Dr. Newell looked pointedly at his patient as he scrawled onto his prescription pad, "And I highly recommend you take it!"

Dr. Newell handed Martin the piece of paper before continuing, "Martin, you really must tell Louisa about what we've discussed today... to try to hide it from her would do neither of you any good."

Martin leaned over and rested his head in his hands, "I can hear what my father would be saying to me right now."

The therapist stood up and walked around to Martin's side of his desk and perched himself on the corner.

"Speaking of your father, we didn't really discuss the particulars of the assignment I gave you when we spoke on the phone the other day. Did you come to any conclusions about the fairness of your parent's punishments?"

Martin stared at his hands as he slowly rubbed his palms together.

"I couldn't actually complete the assignment. I can't bring myself to imagine my son in my place, especially if I'm the disciplinarian. I would _never_ do those things to James."

"Hmm, and what conclusion did you arrive at... were your parents punishments fair?"

"Of course not!"

"But you weren't sure last week?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "I always felt it was my fault... that I must have done something to warrant the discipline. But I realise now that my parents punishments weren't in line with any offense that I could have committed."

Dr. Newell slid himself back onto his desk a bit more and leaned back on his hands. "Which punishments hurt the most when you think back on them? The beatings from your father or the time outs in the cupboard?"

"The time in the cupboard."

Dr. Newell cocked his head at Martin, "You were very quick with that answer. What made that punishment so much worse than the beatings?"

"Dad was just angry. Mum looked at me with such hatred.. contempt. I guess there were times when she was present when Dad was doing the disciplining, and that may actually have been worse now that I think about it. She seemed to enjoy watching... she'd have this strange smile on her face.

I used to try to get a hug from her, just a touch... but she couldn't stand me, I could see it in her eyes. I was never allowed to touch her, she always had an excuse... she wasn't feeling well, she didn't have time, she didn't want me to get her clothes dirty. Even as an adult I knew better than to touch her when I hugged her... I knew how she felt about me. So, I'd give her these strange, awkward hugs, leaving enough room between us to make sure that I didn't make actual contact."

Martin stared off absentmindedly, "She never wanted a child to begin with, and then she ended up with a child like me."

"Tell me about what kind of child you were, Martin. You must have been quite a brilliant boy."

"I was, but I don't think that was a positive to my parents. Because I was very intelligent, I was also very curious, so I asked a lot of annoying questions and found it difficult to not explore... check things out... take things apart to see how they worked. That got me into a lot of trouble."

"But I would imagine you got good marks in school... I would think that made them quite proud."

"Mm, no... its what was expected of me. They knew I was capable of being top in my class so it wasn't something to be celebrated... proud of me for."

"Tell me more about what you meant when you said your mother never wanted a child, especially a child like you."

"She didn't want a child and... I wasn't an attractive child. And I was shy... so I was teased a lot... bullied. I wet the bed frequently. She found it all tiresome."

Dr. Newell climbed down from his perch and sat down again in his chair, "What is it about your son that makes you feel love for him?"

Martin thought for a minute before answering, "I don't know, I loved him from the moment he was born... when I first saw him... held him for the first time."

"What could James do to make you love him more than you do now. I mean, when he's growing up, what kinds of things could he do to make you love him more... be a star athlete... top in his class... the boy all the girls swoon over... be the kid that everyone wants to be friends with... What would make you love your son more than you do now?"

Martin frowned and shook his head at the doctor, "I don't understand what you're asking me. I just told you I loved James from the moment I saw him, even before that... when I first heard his heartbeat I think."

"So there's nothing James could do to make you love him more?"

Dr. Newell watched as Martin mulled over his question.

"You're trying to get me to understand that James has no control over the love that I feel for him."

"Mm, hm."

Martin closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "That I had no control over the lack of love my parents had for me."

"Mm, hm."

Martin felt overwhelmed by the realisation that there was not an important piece missing in him, it was missing in his mother and father. He tried to quell the tears, but he could already feel them rolling down his cheeks.

"Martin, your parents, for reasons you and I will likely never know, have never been capable of loving another human being. Unfortunately, nature still allows people like that to procreate and their children suffer horribly for it. You were an innocent bystander in all of this."

Martin stared, unfocused, at his therapist.

Dr. Newell rose from his chair, "I'm needing a cup of tea, some for you Martin?"

"Um, yes. White...no sugar."

Dr. Newell gave Martin some time to get his legs back under him before he re-entered his office. He set the cups down in front of his patient and pulled up a chair next to him.

Martin took a sip from his cup before addressing his doctor, "I've always thought that there must be something missing in me... something that other people have that makes them capable of being loved. I'm not sure if you can understand how much I appreciate your help today, Dr. Newell."

"I do understand, Martin. I'm very glad that I could lead you to the correct conclusion. You do know now, the ramifications of this... that you will have to admit to yourself that you are indeed capable of being loved? Accepting that will be the hard part."

"I don't know if I can ever really feel that way."

"You'll have to keep reminding yourself that the notions you had adhered to, prior to today, where incorrect.. You have a lot to think about... I hope that you'll share all of this with Louisa. Do remember though that things aren't going to change overnight. You've gained some valuable insight today but the emotional snarls still need to be untangled. There's a long way to go."

"Mmm."

"How are you doing now? Do you feel okay or are you a bit shaky?"

"No, no... I'm fine."

Dr. Newell walked with Martin towards the door, "Get your prescriptions filled and be sure you take the sleep aid before you go to bed tonight. We'll see you on Friday, alright?

"Yes."


	22. Chapter 22

James had gone to bed for the night and Martin was tidying the kitchen before joining Louisa on the sofa. As he went to get himself a cup of coffee he noticed Louisa's bottle of wine sitting on the counter. Pouring a glass for her, he went in and sat down next to his wife.

"A special occasion?" she asked as she held up her glass.

"Mmm, not really," Martin was actually hoping the wine would perhaps put her in a more receptive mood before he started discussing what had transpired at his session that afternoon. He was feeling uneasy about exposing what his wife could perceive to be a weakness in him.

"I had an interesting session with Dr. Newell today."

Louisa sat up, eager to hear what her husband had to share with her.

She nodded at him to continue, "Yes?"

"I've always blamed myself for my parents inability to feel any sort of love for me. I've thought all my life that there was something different about me... something that was missing in me, like a flaw in my character that prevented people from liking me. I would see other children with their parents... the ease they had in talking with their mums and dads... the way the parents touched their children... with _affection_. I think that as a child, the only way that I could make sense of... or accept... the way my parents were with me was to blame myself. But today, Dr. Newell asked me some questions about the love I feel for James... when I first loved him... what James could do as he grew up to make me love him even more. He helped me to understand that the love I feel for our son comes from inside of me. It's not something James has to earn or something he'll lose if he's shy... socially awkward... if he turns out to be... like me. I will always love James. My parents never loved me and I understand now that it wasn't because of something missing in me, but because of something missing in them. Nothing I could have done would have changed anything.

Louisa stared at Martin, not knowing what to say. This was a watershed moment for him.

Martin wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, "Ruth told me the day you left for Spain that I push you away because I believe that you couldn't love someone like me... that I don't think that I deserve you.

Louisa reached up and took hold of his chin, forcing him to face her, "And do you agree?"

"I think that's probably true."

Tears formed in Louisa's eyes as she watched Martin. She knew this was a very vulnerable moment for him and thought frantically, trying to choose her words carefully.

"Martin, I fell in love with you the day we met. I know that it may not have seemed that way, but I did... not in the same way that I love you now... but I thought you were the most striking man I had ever seen. There are things about you that I know _you_ see as unattractive, but Martin, those are the very same things that make my heart beat faster when I look at you. I think you have the cutest ears that just beg to be nuzzled, and lips that beg to be kissed. You had a physical effect on me, and that made me want to get to know you on a deeper level. I'm still drawn to you physically but it's so much more now. You're a man who I can respect...such a good, honorable, and dignified man... a man who I can admire. You're a committed doctor... brilliant beyond compare. And I know you try very hard to keep this under wraps, but I'm on to you darling man... you have a kind and gentle spirit. And for all of this, you deserve whoever you choose to spend your life with... and I'm thankful you chose me."

Martin squeezed Louisa's hand and sighed deeply before standing up and going to the kitchen. He came back with the bottle of wine and refilled Louisa's now empty glass. He sat back down next to her, shifting his coffee cup back and forth on the table in front of him.

"I have to admit something to you, Louisa... I'm fine with this because I understand it from a medical perspective, but I don't know how you'll see it. I hope that you'll still respect me and not see this as a weakness. I'm going to try taking antidepressants... I'm depressed and I can't seem to shake it on my own."

Louisa took his hand in hers, "Martin, that is wonderful news to me! I've watched you struggling on your own for so long. You are such a determined man and I was afraid that if I said something about it... that it would make you feel like you had failed."

"I do feel like I've failed, but not with that, with our marriage. I meant what I said about wanting to learn to be a better husband."

"When did you say that, Martin? You mentioned it on the way home from the hospital as well and I don't remember it."

"Before your operation. You were feeling a bit fuzzy on the pre-med... I told you that I've never been a husband before and I didn't think I was very good at it... but that I wanted to learn."

"Aw, I missed one of your best lines then!" She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Mmm."

Louisa curled up against Martin and pulled his arm around her. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"Louisa."

"Yes, Martin?"

"Do you remember when we were talking on the terrace that day... after we'd been drinking wine and I told you I loved you?"

Louisa tipped her head back to look at him, "And you accused me of being a stalker?"

"Mmm, yes... that was the day. I want to explain why I said what I did... I had just stepped out to get some air... my head had been pounding all day and there had been a constant stream of idiots coming in to see me under false pretenses. When you came up and started talking to me my head was spinning, and when you said you loved me... I just couldn't believe that to be true..I didn't think it was possible for someone to love me. I was grasping for some logical reason as to why you would say that. I panicked and started in with that erotomania rubbish. I'm sorry."

"Thank you for the apology, Martin. I'm sorry I slapped you," Louisa reached up to caress his long past wounded face.

"It's fine... it was the other cheek."

Louisa smiled up at him, "That was a joke, Martin!"

"Yes."

"Very good."

Martin closed his eyes and sat stroking Louisa's arm, thinking about the feelings she had expressed to him minutes earlier. He found himself going through the attributes she had listed that she said drew her to him, mentally discounting most of them.

_Good- how can she possibly see me as a good man when I shout insults at my patients and utter the unkind words that I know escape my mouth all to often?_

_Honorable- well, I am** honest**... to a fault in fact. But how honorable was I when she was pregnant with my child? It was all too easy for me to let her shut me out of the situation. I'll always feel guilty for not having done more to prove my desire to be involved with the pregnancy._

_Dignified?- From day one I've stomped all over that adjective! I ran myself right into a door the first day I met her! Then I made a fool of myself in front of the entire village by getting up on stage and cursing into the microphone... and it was live radio, no less! And less than a month ago I vomited all over Joe Penhale, with a crowd of onlookers to witness it! No, definitely not dignified._

_Committed doctor- Okay, I'll give her that one._

_Kind and gentle spirit- well, perhaps in some situations. I am kind and gentle with James. And I am gentle with Louisa... but kind? How many times have I belittled her job... and why do I do that? I respect what she does with this village's children. And all of my thoughtless remarks to her over the years... true, most of the time it was just my social ineptitude rearing its ugly head._

_And she said that she admired and respected me- what about the times that she's laughed at me or mocked me. When I overheard her laughing about my blood problem with Mark Mylow's sister and then later trivialising the problem by suggesting that maybe I should try homeopathic medicine. And when she mocks me...why would she mock someone she admires and respects? I know she thinks she admires and respects me but if she thought about the number of times she's felt compelled to apologise for my behaviour, I think she might change her mind about that._

_And being attracted to me... physically? I guess there's no accounting for taste._

_I know she means well but... jeez, I don't know what to_ _believe._

"Martin, are you listening?"

Martin glanced down at his wife who was now looking up at him intently, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Never mind, it wasn't important. Are you getting tired? We might be more comfortable cuddling up in bed than we are here on the sofa."

Louisa saw a look of unease pass over Martin's face and quickly added, "Just cuddle, nothing else."

"Yes... that would be fine... good. Um, Dr. Newell also wrote a prescription for zolpidem... to help me sleep. I'll try it Saturday night. I don't know if there will be any residual effect the following day, so I don't think it would be wise to take it before then."

"I hope you tolerate it better than you did the lavender oil."

"It certainly can't_ smell_ any worse."

Louisa rolled her eyes at him, "Oh, Martin... I only used a little bit!"


	23. Chapter 23

Martin woke on Thursday to the sound of the piercing beeps of his alarm. With a groan he rolled onto his side and slapped his hand down on the off button. He collapsed onto his back again, closing his eyes to the world for just a bit longer before rising to start his day.

He could hear the happy sounds of his baby son emanating from across the hall and knew it would be only minutes before the happy sounds turned into wailing demands for attention and breakfast. Leaving his sleeping wife, he rolled out of the comfort of their bed and into into the reality of life.

Martin stood in the doorway watching James for several minutes, unseen by the baby distracted by the rattle he was playing with. James was the only human being who Martin ever felt totally at ease with. His son never expected him to pretend to be someone he wasn't. He felt accepted when he was alone with James.

Martin felt the all to familiar lump form in his throat as he watched this little boy who he loved so dearly. In time James would grow up and discover the many imperfections in his father and he worried that James too, would find him to be an imposition, dispensable baggage weighing him down.

Martin was watching a surgical video on his laptop and James was happily finger painting with what remained of his mashed bananas when Louisa came into the kitchen.

"There are my boys!"

James squealed in excitement and reached his arms out to his mother, ready to be freed from the confinement of his high chair.

"Martin, I think that James and I'll spend some time with Ruth this morning. We haven't seen her at all in several days. Do you think she's taking on too much with this resort project?"

"It really doesn't matter what you and I think, Ruth will do what she wants to do, regardless."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right... but maybe you could talk to her and just remind her to not overdo?"

Martin closed his laptop, a little more forcefully than necessary, and rolled his eyes at his wife, "I thought you and James were seeing her this morning, can't you discuss it with her?"

"I just think she would be more apt to listen to you. You are a doctor... and her nephew."

Louisa actually had an ulterior motive in trying to get Martin to go talk to Ruth... it would also give Ruth an opportunity to talk to Martin. So much had happened with Martin since the last time he had a heart-to-heart with his aunt.

"I'll see what I can do, but there's no telling when this village is going to decide to spread some ghastly dysenteric disease amongst one another...I can't predict my schedule."

Louisa tipped her head down and gave her husband a frosty stare.

Martin mumbled something before adding a more audible, "Yes, I'll stop over to see her at lunchtime."

Louisa came around to Martin's side of the table and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Martin. I would appreciate it."

Martin walked into the surgery reception room to the expected greeting from Morwenna, "Mornin' Doc!"

"Morning," Martin responded as he walked through to his consulting room.

Before he could get the door closed behind him he heard a shout from Morwenna, "Oh, Doc! I was wonderin' if I could take off a couple hours early today! Al's goin' to Truro to pick up some supplies for the farm and he asked me to go along!"

Martin rubbed his forehead in frustration... and to ease a developing headache, "Morwenna, if you want to talk to me come into the consulting room!"

"I would but you yell at me to get out when I come in there!"

"Morwenna! Just do it!"

Bangles jangling, Morwenna walked into Martin's office.

"So can I, Doc?"

Martin scowled at the garishly dressed girl standing in the doorway, "Can you what!"

"Alright, no need to shout, Doc. Just wanna know if I can take off a couple hours early today. We don't have any patients scheduled after 4:00."

"Uhm, yes... I guess that would be fine."

"Thanks, Doc!"

Martin decided that he would plan to stop in at Ruth's over the noon hour and then take a drive out to the Hanley's at 4:00.

Martin's morning passed quickly and he was about to slip out to head over to Ruth's when he heard the ingratiating voice of Mrs. Tishell, now standing in his doorway.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham... I'm so glad I caught you before you went to lunch! I thought you might be interested in this article from the latest issue of the M.- H.- R.- A. warning of improper packaging of a certain nebulizer adaptor. They have actually issued a recall of the product... I took it upon myself to bring you a copy of the article.

Mrs. Tishell batted her eyes beguilingly as she slid the article across Martin's desk, leaning down slightly more than necessary in hopes that he would notice the extra button left undone on her cardigan jumper.

Martin looked up at the woman with an air of derision and sighed, "Thank you Mrs. Tishell, will that be all?"

"Actually doctor..." The woman slowly traced lines with her finger back and forth across Martin's desk, licking her upper lip and swinging a hip out ever so slightly. "I just wanted to say that I've missed seeing you in my shop lately. It's been so long since we've had a chance to catch up on the latest medical developments. Perhaps..."

"Mrs. Tishell, I have a very busy schedule so if you don't mind..." Martin gestured towards the door.

"Of course, Dr. Ellingham, you are a busy, busy, man. I'm so sorry." The chemist moved through into the reception room and Martin swung the door shut behind her. As he turned to walk back to his desk he heard Mrs. Tishell's shrill farewell, "Goodbye, Dr. Ellinghaaam!"

"Gawd!"

As soon as he was sure that the coast was clear, Martin left the surgery and headed down the hill to Ruth's. Louisa had mentioned to her that he might stop by so Ruth had already prepared lunch.

"I had a very nice visit with your wife and son this morning. Al's kept me so busy that I just haven't had time to get over to see you."

Martin medically scrutinized his aunt, looking for any sign that she could be overextending herself. She looked perfectly healthy to his doctor's eyes but he knew that his visual diagnostic conclusion would never satisfy Louisa.

"Ruth, do you think Al is asking too much of you? This isn't getting overwhelming for you is it?"

"Oh, for goodness sake Martin! I may be old but I'm not decrepit!"

Martin squirmed around on his chair. No matter how he handled this he was going to have a woman annoyed with him.

"Nooo, I'm only saying that you seem to be working some long hours on this project and I'm just concerned for your welfare."

Ruth squinted her eyes at her nephew, "Well, thank you for your concern Martin, but there's no need to worry about me. I'm loving this!"

Ruth paused, taking note of how thin her nephew was getting, "How about you... how's therapy going?"

Martin focused his attention on his plate, avoiding eye contact with his aunt, "Mm, fine. Dr. Newell seems to be quite competent...thank you for the recommendation, by the way."

"Louisa mentioned that you've not been sleeping well. Did you discuss this with your therapist... it could be symptomatic you know."

Martin glanced at his watch, wondering how much longer the interrogation might go on.

"Dr. Newell did send me home with a prescription for zolpidem, but after giving it some thought I've decided that, given my position, it would be best to avoid using it. I could get called out in the night and I would need to be able to drive... and think coherently."

"Hm, I have to admit, that could be a concern. Just be sure you bring it up with Dr. Newell when you see him tomorrow... he'll want to know about his patient's noncompliance."

Ruth hesitated before asking, "Has Dr. Newell been able to jog your memory at all? We had discussed your blood phobia possibly stemming from a traumatic childhood event..."

Martin looked at Ruth, uncertain of how much information he wanted to disclose, "I've been having nightmares... just glimpses... flashes of images mostly."

Ruth set her fork down on the table and wiped her mouth with her napkin, "Martin, do you have memories of your childhood... disturbing memories?"

Martin was not sure about how much he wanted to share with his aunt. He really didn't want a second person psychoanalysing his unhappy childhood.

"What do you mean by disturbing memories?"

"I suspect if you've had them I wouldn't need to explain... does that mean you've not had any disturbing memories?"

Martin let out a heavy sigh, "Yes, I have had some... you know the kind of parents I had."

"I fear I may not know the half of it... and I'm also familiar with that dreadful boarding school that your parent's sent you to. There were plenty of other schools that were equally as good, and without the reputation your's had for their approach to discipline."

"Dad thought I needed some toughening up."

Martin picked up his dishes and carried them to the sink. "Ruth, I do remember some things... and I hope that's all there is to be remembered, but..."

Ruth looked uncertainly at her nephew, "Are you having some partial memories but can't quite see the whole picture?"

Martin leaned back on the counter, "I'm not sure they're even partial memories... like I said, they're flashes... glimpses... sometimes feelings."

He had Ruth's interest now, "What kinds of feelings?"

"Panic, anxiety, fear... I get close to remembering sometimes... I think... but then the image evaporates."

"This must be terribly frustrating for you."

Martin was beginning to feel emotions rising in him so he cut the conversation short.

"Mm... Well, I better crack on... thank you for lunch, Aunt Ruth."

"You're quite welcome."

Ruth put her hand on Martin's arm. "Martin, I'm here... anytime you would like to talk."

"Mm, thank you."

Martin left his aunt's feeling a bit awkward about her concern for him. He was much more accustomed to dealing with his problems on his own.


	24. Chapter 24

When he returned to the surgery after lunch Martin could hear voices in the kitchen. He ducked under the stairs to try to snatch a few moments with his family before the afternoon patients began to arrive. James reached his arms out when he saw his father come into view and Martin lifted the boy out of the high chair. He stroked the backs of his fingers across James' cheek, the silkiness of the baby's skin never failing to fascinate Martin. Having spent the better part of his life living either alone or in a testosterone charged environment, the softness he found when caressing his wife and son seemed like a self-indulgent luxury.

"Did you get a chance to visit Ruth at lunch?" Louisa asked as she folded the baby clothes that had just come out of the dryer.

"I did, she seems to be fine with the work load that Al has given her... enjoying it actually."

Louisa laid down the baby blanket that was in her hands, "But you did suggest that she should cut back on the amount of time she's working... right?"

"_Nooo_, I did watch her carefully for any signs that she could be suffering from stress or fatigue, and if you would like my medical opinion, I don't think that there's anything you need to worry about.

This was exactly what Martin was afraid would happen. Either Ruth would be unhappy with him for suggesting she was taking on too much, or Louisa would be unhappy because he hadn't done enough to discourage his aunt from working too hard.

Martin decided it would be wisest to change the subject entirely , "Um, you'll be due for a brain scan as well as an x-ray of your clavicle next week. I thought that I could try to schedule it for Friday... it would save us another trip to Truro."

"Yes, that sounds good, Martin. Does that mean I might be able to get rid of the sling?"

"I would say that the chances of that are good."

"It will be wonderful to be able to do things with two hands again... such as this," Louisa came over and embraced her husband with one arm."

"Mm, yes. Um, I'll be driving out to see a patient this afternoon so I could be running a bit late for dinner. I'll see you when I get back."

Martin headed back under the stairs to tend to his afternoon patients.

By the time four o'clock rolled around, the headache that Martin had started the day with had returned. He knew it was likely a side effect of the antidepressant he was taking. He would mention it to Dr. Newell tomorrow.

All seemed quiet when he arrived at the Hanley farm. Mr. Hanley met Martin at the door, "What are _you_ doin' here?" Hanley grumbled.

"I've come to remove your sutures, and I would also like to take a look at your son. Your wife brought him into my surgery a while back for treatment of his asthma."

"Come on in then," the man said as he waved Martin through the door.

"If you could just lay down for me," Martin gestured towards the sofa.

He knelt down by his patient, and pulling out his forceps and a pair of scissors, proceeded to remove the stitches he had put in to close the gash on the man's forehead. When he finished with the task, he leaned towards Hanley's face, catching the odor of alcohol coming from the man's mouth.

"Mr. Hanley, you may sit up now." Martin hesitated before continuing, "I would like to discuss your other problem with you before I leave today."

Hanley glared back at Martin, "What other problem is that?"

"You have a drinking problem Mr. Hanley, and I think it needs to be addressed, don't you?"

"What are you sayin'? So I enjoy a nip or two now and then, there's no crime innat!"

Martin sighed, "No, but the last time I was here you were so intoxicated that you could barely stand. It's how you got that gash on your forehead, remember? And, I can smell alcohol on your breath right now."

"I done nothin' wrong, doc. You suggestin' otherwise?"

"I am _suggesting_ that you have a problem controlling your alcohol consumption. I would like to arrange for you to meet with someone who's trained to treat people with your condition. I'll make some calls tomorrow and..."

"Git out! You don't know what yer talkin' about!"

Martin was struggling to keep his annoyance with the man in check and uncertain as to how far to push him.

"Mr. Hanley, I can't force you to get treatment, but I would highly recommend that you take me up on my offer to assist you with this. I'm concerned for you, as well as for your wife and children."

Hanley took several aggressive steps towards Martin, then stopped and eyed him menacingly.

"Git out... git outta my house!"

Martin moved towards the front door but paused momentarily, "I would like to take a look at your son first, and then I'll be on my way... where can I find him?"

Hanley waved his hand towards the outbuildings near the house, "He's out there somewhere!"

"Thank you," Martin said as he stepped out the door, Hanley slamming it behind him.

Martin looked in the direction of the barn but didn't see any sign of Evan. As he walked around the side of the building he spotted a small form huddled up against a stone wall.

"Hello Evan, I stopped by to take a quick look at you and to listen to those lungs of yours. Is that alright with you?"

The little boy didn't answer but nodded his head at the doctor.

Martin reached down to take the boys hand but Evan turned away, sheltering his arm. Martin's heart sank as he knew what he was likely to find when he examined the child.

He knelt down in front of Evan and proceeded to examine the boy as he stayed huddled against the wall.

"Tell me if anything hurts, Evan."

The little boy cried out in pain when Martin palpated his forearm. He proceeded with his examination and noted nothing else out of the ordinary, aside from a bruise on the boy's face.

"Evan, I think we need to get some pictures taken of the bones in your arm, just to make sure that everything's okay in there. Where's your mother?"

Evan looked at Martin, fear in his eyes. "She went into Wadebridge to go to the supermarket."

Martin pulled out his mobile and called Joe Penhale to inform him of the situation, "I need to take the boy to Truro for x-rays, but I can't legally do that without a parent's consent. Mrs. Hanley is in Wadebridge, so I need you to come out here and help me with the father. He's been drinking and isn't in a cooperative mood... No, the boy needs immediate medical care and I don't want to wait any longer, so get out here now, Penhale!"

Martin rang off and returned his attention to Evan, retrieving a small splint from his medical bag and affixing it to the boy's arm.

"How bout we wait for PC Penhale in my car, Evan? We can get you warmed up a bit, okay?"

Once back in the Lexus, Martin turned on the heat and opened the bottle of water he had in his cup holder, instructing Evan to swallow the paracetamol he put in his hand.

"Evan, did your father do this to your arm?" Martin asked gently.

The child peered up shyly at the doctor before shaking his head.

Martin's voice became more insistent, "You must tell me the truth about what happened to your arm if you want me to help your father."

The boy sat silently, refusing to look at Martin.

"When you come to see me in my surgery, I always ask about your symptoms... if you have a cough... fever... that sort of thing. I need to know those things so that I can figure out how best to help you to get well again. I need to know about your father's symptoms, Evan, and I need you to help me with that. Did your father hurt your arm?"

Evan looked down at his hands before answering softly, "He doesn't mean to... he gets mad when he drinks... and I made him mad so he grabbed my arm."

"Thank you, Evan."

Martin heard the sound of an approaching siren, and after instructing Evan to wait in the car, he got out to meet up with Joe Penhale.

Jim Hanley was neither a sober nor a happy man when he met the doctor and constable at the door.

"Mr. Hanley, I need your consent to take your son into Truro to get the treatment he needs for a broken arm. PC Penhale has the form... you only need to sign it."

"Yer not taken my son anywhere!"

Martin's patience had worn thin and he snapped back at the man, "Your son is going to hospital with or without your consent! I would _highly_ recommend that you cooperate and sign the bloody form, and maybe the court will go a little easier on you when you're brought up on charges of child abuse!"

Hanley moved towards Martin, "Child abuse! That little bastard needed some sense slapped into 'im is all."

Martin felt rage building in him, threatening to erupt, but he could do nothing to stop it. He lashed out at the belligerent drunk, knocking him to the ground. Joe Penhale grabbed Martin's arms but was no match for the strength that the much larger doctor possessed. Martin broke free and grabbed Hanley by the front of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He pulled his fist back, ready to deliver a blow to the drunk's face when the image of his father flashed in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to regain his equilibrium. Martin took in a deep breath, dropped his fist to his side, and walked out the door. Joe Penhale joined him shortly with the necessary form, now signed by Jim Hanley.

"Doc, you okay?" the constable asked with genuine concern in his voice.

"Yeah, just give me a minute." Martin rubbed his forehead and took in several deep breaths.

"Alright, I'll run the boy to Truro." Martin paused before continuing, "I know you'll have to report this Penhale. I'm sorry to put you in the middle of it."

The constable gave Martin a timid smile then grabbed hold of his heavily festooned belt and hiked up his pants, "I don't believe any damage was done Doc, so no report will be necessary."

Martin looked back at the constable in surprise, "Mm, thank you Penhale."

Martin drove Evan to hospital and stayed until the boy had been treated and the *NSPCC worker had arrived. It was after half nine before he was on the highway, headed for home.

*NSPCC- National Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To Children


	25. Chapter 25

Martin had called Louisa to let her know that he would be running late but it was almost half ten by the time he walked in the door, and Louisa had been worrying about him.

"Where have you been? I expected you to be here for dinner!"

"Louisa, please," Martin held up a palm to her and she knew she should not say anymore.

"I'm sorry, I was worried about you... can I make you something to eat?"

Martin shook his head, before collapsing into a chair.

"Eating now would keep me up."

Louisa sat down next to her husband, noticing the tension in his face.

"I completely lost control today, Louisa. The boy I told you about before..."

Louisa gave Martin a nod of acknowledgement, "That you thought was being abused?"

"Mm hmm. His father is a drunk... I'd been to their place a couple of weeks ago to stitch the man's head up after he lost his balance and crashed into a table. I went there today to remove his sutures and check up on his son. The man had been drinking again, and I tried to persuade him to get treatment. He was being belligerent and I could see that I wasn't going to get anywhere with him, so I went to check on the boy. I found him outside, cowering against a wall. When I examined him I discovered his arm had been broken. I don't know _how_ long he'd been suffering with it. The mother was in Wadebridge so I had to get Joe Penhale to come out with a parental release form. The father wouldn't sign it... called his son a bastard and claimed the fracture was the result of legitimate discipline. I couldn't stop myself, Louisa. I hit him and he fell to the floor. I could feel Penhale's arms around me, trying to get me under control but... I grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him to his feet. I was about to punch my fist into the man's face when I had an image flash in my front of me. An image of my father. I turned and walked out the door and Penhale came out later with the form... signed."

Martin put his head down on his arms that were resting on the table. Louisa stood up and brushed her hand across Martin's head before leaning over to embrace him from behind and kiss the top of his head.

"I'll make you some tea. But... Martin, you really need to eat something. You haven't eaten since lunch, have you?"

"I'm not hungry."

Louisa plugged in the teapot and came back to the table. She took Martin's hand in hers.

"Martin,_ I'm_ proud of you. You stood up for that helpless little boy when no one else did... and you did try with the father."

"I violated the oath I took, Louisa!... I just felt this rage explode in me and I couldn't stop it."

Martin wiped his hand across his face, trying to discreetly remove the tears that he couldn't contain.

Louisa was able to get some tea into her husband but he couldn't stomach food. Martin took a hot shower and then he crawled into bed, Louisa beside him.

* * *

><p><em>He was clinging to something... a phantasm? The fear he felt... unbearable. He heard his father's voice... Martin! Let go! He felt a force grab onto his shirt, pulling at him. He couldn't release his grip on the phantasm, his fingers in fixed clutches. The force pulling at his shirt released its grip only to clamp itself onto his arm, tearing him away from the phantasm and banishing him to the shadows... a horrendous pain coursing through his arm.<em>

* * *

><p>Louisa woke in the night to whimpering sounds coming from her husband. She shook him, trying to relieve him of the misery he was surely in.<p>

"Martin, Martin, wake up!"

Martin cried out, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Martin, it's alright!" Louisa tried to calm him, but he was lunging and reaching out as if trying to grab onto something. He kicked out against the blankets that had ensnared his feet, finally freeing himself and tumbling onto the floor.

Louisa reached for the switch on the lamp. The sudden illumination in the room finally released Martin from the nightmare that had trapped him. He leaned back against the bed, trying desperately to catch his breath.

Louisa ran around to him and dropped to the floor next to her husband, embracing him and holding him tightly to her. His breathing began to slow.

"Oh, Martin... it's alright... it's alright." She pulled back so that she could look at him. The color had drained from his face and he was drenched with sweat.

Louisa's presence returned him to reality and a great sense of relief spread through his body.

"What was that all about?" Louisa asked her husband, her hands cradling his head.

"A nightmare."

Louisa turned his face to her so that she could make eye contact with him, "I'm going to get a washcloth and I'll be right back... don't move."

She grabbed a wet washcloth and dry pyjamas and hurried back to his side.

"Martin, you've never been this upset by a dream... what was it about?" She helped him out of his wet clothes and gently wiped the sweat from his skin before handing him the dry things.

Martin let out a long breath of air, "It was so real... I was hanging on to something... hanging on so tight that my fingers were locked in place. I heard my father's voice... I don't remember him ever sounding so angry. He yelled at me to let go but I couldn't. I couldn't open my hands. Then something was pulling at me... at my shirt. Then I felt it grab onto my arm... it grabbed so tight that it hurt. Then it yanked me back and I could feel something tearing from my fingers... there was a sound, like a crack... I felt pain in my arm. I was thrown back onto the floor, into the dark..."

Martin put his head in his hands and Louisa could feel the sobs racking his body.

"Martin, lets get back into bed and we can talk about this."

Louisa pulled the covers up over them and curled up against him. "Do you think it was just a nightmare... or do you think it was a memory?"

Martin shook his head, "I don't know, it seemed so real... but I don't know."

Louisa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

Martin propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her.

"Louisa, you need to put your arm back in your sling."

"Oh Martin, I'm fine. It feels perfectly normal now."

"Hm."

He laid back down and flipped an arm up over his head. Turning towards his wife, he watched the beautiful woman who had just helped him through a very frightening moment. "Louisa, I'm sorry that I disturb your sleep so much."

"Martin Ellingham, if you are serious about this marriage, you need to stop apololgising every time you need me for something. I hate to see you go through all of this, but I'm glad that I'm the the one that gets to be there for you. I wish I had known before that horrible Sports Day that you were having such a difficult time... that you had the history that you do... I wouldn't have pushed you so hard."

"It's not something I could have talked about then. I was afraid you would leave me if you knew... but you were going to leave anyway so..."

Louisa brushed her hand across his head, "You had nothing to lose?"

"Mm, I guess so... so far so good?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Martin... I promise."

Martin slept undisturbed through the rest of the night and woke with his lovely Louisa in his arms. As was typical, she was still sleeping, and he took the opportunity to study her face. He felt his heart swell the way it had when he saw her standing in the church doorway the day of their wedding. She took his breath away.

Louisa began to stir and Martin brushed the wisps of hair off her face. When she opened her eyes Martin was looking at her, his gaze penetrating. His expression reminded her of the time when she had fainted while reading to her grade 3's. She had opened her eyes then to the same face that she was looking at this morning. Those soft, grey, inquisitive eyes of his.

"Good morning, Martin."

"Mm."

"Martin, I'm curious... did you really knock that man to the floor?"

Martin groaned and put his hands on his head, "_Yesss_."

"So did Joe Penhale put the cuffs on you then?"

Martin whirled around to look at her, "Good God, no!"

Louisa giggled, "That must have taken a great deal of restraint on Joe's part. It would have been a perfect opportunity to brush the dust off of them."

"Very funny, Louisa."

"Oh Martin, I'm just kidding. Seriously though, he's not going to press charges or anything is he?"

"No, he said no damage had been done so..."

"Mmm, that's good. We already have one felon in the family, we don't need another."


	26. Chapter 26

Poppy arrived at the back door of the surgery promptly at two o'clock, giving Louisa ample opportunity to go through a quick run-down of James' routine with her, as well to cover all of the health care instructions that Martin had left for her. Louisa was pleased to see her son warm to Poppy almost immediately. James could be a rather shy boy and didn't take to everyone.

Louisa was also pleased to see that her notoriously cranky husband had stayed on the business end of the house, preventing any unhappy encounters with the new childminder. Louisa was hoping to limit contact with Martin until Poppy had built up some tolerance for his gruff demeanor.

Friday had brought with it cool but sunny weather; a nice day for a drive through the Cornish countryside. Louisa was feeling a bit apprehensive about this appointment, as she had been doing a lot of soul searching since the Sports Day fiasco. She was having to admit to herself that her own behaviour had been the cause of a lot that had transpired that day. It was time to face the music and she was rather dreading it.

As they sat across from Dr. Newell, Louisa reached over to take Martin's hand in hers. He glanced over when he felt her touch and she gave him a nervous smile.

Dr. Newell cleared his throat and turned to Louisa, "Mrs. Ellingham, you mentioned before we wrapped things up last week that there was something you would like to start us out with today, so why don't I let you begin.

"Well, it's just that I've been trying to pay closer attention to my own behaviour lately, not just looking for Martin's mistakes. I have to admit that I've really laid most of the blame for our marital difficulties at Martin's feet. That's not a fair representation of how things have been. I find myself behaving in much the same way my mother did with my father. She was so critical of him and always had to be in control. I think that I can easily get defensive when I feel like I'm losing control of a situation."

Dr. Newell watched Martin for any reaction to his wife's words. "Can you give me a specific example of what you're talking about?"

"Well... Martin, I have to bring up our horrible row on Sports Day. I think it's important that we both understand what happened there."

Dr. Newell swiveled back and forth in his chair, noticing the dour look on Martin's face.

"Why don't you tell me about what happened that day, Louisa."

Louisa worried her purse strap and looked anxiously over at Martin before redirecting her attention to the doctor.

"We had an absolutely horrid day several weeks ago... it was Sports Day at my school and I had asked Martin to hand out the medals. He hadn't remembered our conversation about it, so he was surprised when I told him that morning that I was expecting him to be at the school at noon to do this. He had a lot of patients scheduled that day and wasn't happy about having to help out, but he was willing to do it... either that or he was afraid to say no to me.

He came to the field promptly at noon, but I wasn't ready for him so he had to wait around. Then, I asked him to give an impromptu speech. He told me that he didn't have the time... that he had patients waiting. I get so wrapped up sometimes in my own job that I forget that Martin has responsibilities, too. So anyway, I got more and more upset and Martin looked more and more confused about what I expected him to do. Then I got angry with him because, when he gave in and started to speak to the children, he didn't say what I wanted him to say."

Louisa turned to Martin, "Instead of appreciating that you had left patients waiting so that you could come and help me with the medals, I kept asking more and more of you. And the stupid thing is that the kids would have been perfectly happy to have you hang the medals around their necks, spare them the speech and get back to the fun and games! I had this idea of how I wanted things to be and I had to be in control of everything... and you."

Louisa shifted her attention back to Dr. Newell, "Martin had finally had enough and told me he didn't have time... then he walked off and I stupidly chased after him, yelling at the top of my lungs no less. I ran out into the street without looking, right into the path of an oncoming car."

Dr. Newell blew out a breath of air, "Is that how you hurt your shoulder?"

"I had a broken clavicle," she raised her injured arm as exhibit A.

"Martin, did you witness the accident?"

Nodding his head, Martin blinked his eyes and tried to gulp down the huge lump in his throat.

"That must have been very difficult to see."

Martin sat staring out the window, "She didn't want me to come with her."

"I'm sorry, come with her where?"

"In the ambulance... at the hospital... she didn't want me. I'm her husband... and a doctor, and she didn't want me. I felt so guilty... I still do."

Louisa reached out and touched his arm, "Martin, I'm sorry for shutting you out that way. I think part of it was the control thing, and I know that when it comes to James and me, you get a bit intense about your medical responsibilities. I think you go into department head mode and I worry about whether or not you're insulting people."

"I'm sorry, Louisa, but I don't know how you can expect me to behave any differently in a situation like that. I wanted you to have the best care possible, and I wasn't asking any more of Samuels and his hospital staff than I always expected from myself, as well as the consultants under me... and the nursing staff. If you'd been given even the basic standard of care you wouldn't have developed the *DVT! I knew it, and so did that unctuous platitudinising eunuch, Samuels!

The therapist rocked back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head. "Louisa, if it's of any comfort to you, your husband's name is well recognised in the medical community, and his behaviour really will not come as a surprise to hospital medical staff. Martin may be a bit more blunt in his criticism of people than most of us, but for the most part, he's probably exhibiting typical department head behaviour. I'm afraid one doesn't attain that level of responsibility without having a very commanding authority. People may not like it, but it _is_ how the hospital hierarchy tends to work."

It suddenly occurred to Louisa how her behaviour to Martin must have made him look in the eyes of Dr. Samuels, as well as the nursing staff. They probably delighted in seeing the "big man" taken down a notch.

Dr. Newell looked at Louisa, "I'm assuming, Louisa, that there have been other instances where you've felt like you were losing control."

Louisa cleared her throat, "Martin and I had a disagreement about the date of our son's christening. Martin had set the date for the christening without consulting me first and I was upset. That argument... well and that's another thing... sometimes we have these one sided disagreements where I get upset and tell Martin what he did wrong, and how he should have handled things, and he says something like, 'that doesn't seem too complicated'... and it drives me crazy! It feels like he's won the argument again!"

Louisa let our a loud huff and Martin shook his head and blinked his eyes in confusion.

Dr. Newell swiveled around to face Martin. "What are you thinking when these kinds of disagreements arise, Martin?"

Martin looked back and forth between Louisa and Dr. Newell, uncertain about where this was heading.

"Ah, I'm not sure that I see a problem. If Louisa tells me what I've done wrong and how to handle the same situation in the future, then it really _doesn't_ seem too complicated. I just do what she wants me to the next time."

"Louisa, do you feel like you never win an argument?"

Louisa shifted in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest, "Martin's very intelligent, and he's also very knowledgeable about almost everything, it seems. Sometimes, I feel like I don't stand a chance of defending my position in our rows. He makes complete sense when looking at things logically."

The therapist fiddled with a scrap of paper, folding it and unfolding it. "Martin, do you think every argument can be settled logically?"

Martin shook his head in disbelief, "Is there any other way to settle an argument? It certainly wouldn't make any sense to settle an argument illogically... I'm sorry, but I don't understand where this line of questioning is going!"

Dr. Newell leaned forward and tapped his little piece of paper on his desk, "I think we're getting into that dangerous concrete thinker/abstract thinker territory now. For you, Martin, a logical conclusion is the only one that makes sense... for Louisa, logic comes into play, but those messy emotions get thrown into the mix."

The furrow between Martin's brows deepened and he blew out a frustrated snort of air.

The doctor could see he was going to have to try a different approach with him.

"What is it that attracted you to Louisa? Apart from her obvious outward appearance, I mean."

Martin bristled at the therapists remark, "I don't think comments about my wife's appearance are appro..."

"Martin, I'm only saying that you have a wife who is quite comely, but that I'm sure there's more to her than that. What made you want to pursue a serious relationship with her... what other qualities appealed to you?"

Martin settled back into his chair, "She's the most kind and caring person I've ever known and I knew she would make a wonderful mother."

Louisa looked with adoration at her husband, and made a mental note to reward him later for his answer.

"So, three of Louisa's most important qualities involve emotions?"

"Mm, but she doesn't need emotions to come to a logical conclusion."

"Martin, Louisa can't turn her emotions on and off any more easily than you can turn your logical educated mind on and off in social or romantic situations. You are who you are, each of you, and you both need to remind yourselves of that when you interact in any circumstance."

Louisa turned to look at her husband, unprepared for the tears she saw in his eyes. "Martin?"

She reached for his hand, "Martin, is something wrong?"

Martin turned away quickly, rubbing his eyes.

Dr. Newell walked around to sit on the front of his desk. "Martin, did I say something to upset you?"

Martin shook his head and looked down at his hands folded in his lap, "You said, 'you are who you are'. Auntie Joan said that to me Louisa, the night after the concert... when you told me you didn't want to see me anymore. She said that it was never going to work between us... that I should let it go. I was sure then that she was all wrong. She _was_ wrong wasn't she?"

"Martin, no I don't think she was wrong. We _are_ who we are. But, I do think she was wrong when she said it was never going to work between us. I think that's up to us, and I for one intend to make it work! I think what Dr. Newell is saying is that we need to respect our differences... remember to _appreciate_ our differences."

Dr. Newell uncrossed his ankles and hopped off his desk, "Martin, try to remember when you and Louisa have disagreements, that there will most likely be emotions involved. Remind yourself that Louisa is an emotional individual, and that's one of the things you love about her. And Louisa, try to remember that you will need to explain those emotions to Martin, he's not going to be able to intuit what you are feeling, you need to put it into words for him. And try to remind yourself that your husband is always going to think in very concrete and logical terms. That doesn't mean that he doesn't care about your feelings, but you might need to point them out to him... explain them to him."

The doctor made his way towards the door, "Well, I think we'll wrap it up there for this week. Hang in there, we have a ways to go with both of you, but especially you Martin. Try to support one another and be patient. Especially you Louisa, Martin really needs you right now, whether he'll admit it or not. How are you doing with the new drugs, by the way, Martin?"

"Mm, yes... I wanted to bring that up today. I haven't taken the zolpidem. I can't risk being sedated if I get called out in the night. As for the prozac, I've been taking it but have found the headaches I get to be pretty severe. I know it could take a couple of weeks to adjust, though."

Dr. Newell crossed his arms across his chest, "Let's see how things are going when we meet on Wednesday. If you haven't seen any improvement by then, we could certainly try a different tack."

"Mm, I'll see you then." Martin took Louisa by the arm and guided her out the door.

"Martin, you didn't mention to me that you weren't taking the zolpidem... or that you were having headaches," Louisa said as they pulled away from the therapists office.

"I didn't realise you wanted to know about it."

"Well, maybe in the future you should just err on the safe side and tell me everything."

Martin inhaled deeply and let out a long, slow breath, "This gets more confusing all the time."

Louisa reached over and caressed his knee, "If in doubt, ask me... okay?"

"Mm."

*DVT- deep vein thrombosis, a blood clot that forms in an extremity. It can break loose, travel to the lungs and cause difficulty breathing.


	27. Chapter 27

Louisa found herself feeling increasingly anxious as they neared Port Wenn. She knew that Poppy would be a perfect childminder for James, and soon the shy girl would be reminded that with the job would come Martin Ellingham.

"Martin, please be very nice to Poppy when we get home."

Martin gave his wife a scowl, "Why do you always assume that I'm going to behave badly? I can dish out the same kind of idiotic drivel that everyone else does... if I put my mind to it."

"Oh, Martin, don't try to be nice in _that_ way, it just doesn't work for you. Just try not to be grumpy... maybe ask her how she's been... tell her it's nice to see her again, that sort of thing."

Martin turned his head to look out the driver's side window, mumbling.

"Martin, are going to make an effort to be nice?"

"Doesn't it seem a bit disingenuous to tell someone it's nice to see them if you don't really mean it?"

Louisa threw her head back in disgust, "Martin Ellingham, you can be the most exasperating man!"

Even Martin could see that he had raised the ire of his wife, and he searched his brain frantically for a tolerable nicety that he could use with Poppy.

"Martin, just talk to her about James... or..."

Louisa looked apologetically at the man next to her before adding softly, "...maybe just don't talk"

Martin sat, not saying anything for several minutes.

"Louisa, I wish I could be the way you'd like me to be. I'm trying to change, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to change enough. That I'll be constantly upsetting you this way and that I'll never make you happy. That you'll..."

There was a look of desperation in his eyes, but Louisa realised that there was little she could say to assure her husband that she wouldn't desert him again. Actions do speak louder than words, and she had sent a very clear and consistent message over the course of their relationship. If Martin does the wrong thing... says the wrong thing- run off on him... or push him out of the taxi... or leave him sitting shell-shocked in his car, not really understanding what he did wrong or what's expected of him.

"Martin, I do promise that I will never leave you again, but I realise my words are probably meaningless to you. I've been so cavalier about your feelings. I see that gruff, exasperating exterior and choose to forget that there's a warm, tender, and really very sensitive, interior to you. I've lost your trust and it will take time for me to earn it back. Will you give me that chance?"

Martin blinked back the moisture in his eyes, "You have as many chances as are necessary."

Martin knew he couldn't bear to be alone again, to live his life without Louisa.

"Um, Louisa... do you walk out on me because you know that you could easily find someone else to love you... someone else to share your life with?"

Louisa was left momentarily speechless by his question.

"You feel replaceable, don't you! You think I could just throw you away like your parents did! Martin, is that what you're afraid of?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders and turned his face away from Louisa, mumbling.

"Martin Ellingham, if you have something to say, then say it loud enough so that I can hear it!"

Martin let out a huff of air, "I'm afraid that someone who could really make you happy will come along, and you'll feel like you're stuck with me."

Louisa remembered the day she found herself feeling envious of her mother, who had just left to go out to dinner. She told Martin, 'She gets to go out and have fun, and I'm stuck here at home, with a baby... and YOU!'

He had looked hurt when she said it, but did he take her words to heart?

"Martin, I just don't know what to say to you right now. I'm feeling guilty about things that I've said and done to you over the years."

"Mm, I'm sure I probably deserved it."

"No, Martin, you don't deserve to be treated like you don't matter to me... like what you think doesn't matter to me."

Martin reached over and took Louisa's hand in his, "I've made more than my share of cutting remarks, Louisa."

"I think this is a subject that needs more discussion, but maybe not in front of Poppy... later, okay?"

"Mm."

James was sitting contentedly on Poppy's lap, listening to a story when Martin and Louisa came in the door.

Louisa always delighted in the sight of her little boy, "Hi, Poppy! And hello, James! Were you a good boy while we were gone?"

"He's really sweet, Mrs. Ellingham. I had no trouble at all."

Louisa glanced over at Martin and noticed he was standing just inside the door, looking like he was afraid to come any closer.

Martin walked towards the hallway and made an excuse about needing to get some work done in the consulting room. He left Louisa to wrap things up with Poppy on her own.

Louisa stuck her head in the doorway a short time later, "The coast is clear, you can come out now."

"Mm, is she going to take the job?"

Louisa gave Martin a broad smile, "Yes, she is. I am so happy about this, Martin. I feel much better about school starting back in, now that we have her lined up," She came around to the back of Martin's desk and put her arm around his shoulders. Thank you for telling me about Poppy... and for making this work."

"You're welcome, although I'm not sure that I can take any credit for making it work... I don't think hiding in my office counts."

"Well, still... I appreciate it." Louisa leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Martin."

"Mm, yes."

Martin got James bathed after dinner, and put him to bed while Louisa washed the dirty dishes. She came in to join Martin on the sofa, carrying two cups of tea.

"Martin, can we finish our conversation now?"

"I'm sorry, what conversation?"

"Martin, you don't remember our discussion in the car?"

Martin laid his BMJ down on the table and turned to Louisa, "Mm, that conversation... yes..."

"I need to convince you somehow, that even though I've run off on you several times... rejected you... Well, I want to find a way to help you to feel more secure in our relationship, so that you're not constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Maybe it will just take time?"

"That's not good enough is it, Martin. You have to live with this anxiety until time has proven to you that I won't leave you again? That's just not good enough."

"Perhaps once I have my issues worked out you'll feel happier, which, might in turn make me more confident that you're staying." Martin looked at Louisa with hopeful eyes.

"You know Martin, I'm already feeling much happier."

Martin looked at Louisa, confused. "But, all that you've had to deal with... with me. How can you be happier?"

"Martin, I was going to Spain because I couldn't be happy here. Not because I can't be happy _with_ you, but because I can't be happy _without_ you. And you were shutting me out. Lately, you've been letting me back in... letting me help. I want to feel like you need me. I don't want to feel unnecessary anymore than you want to feel replaceable."

Martin looked at her with round, disbelieving eyes. "Louisa, how can you possibly feel unnecessary? I've told you that I can't bear to be without you."

"Yes, you have. Maybe it has more to do with needing to feel like I play an active role in helping you. Being included in all that you're struggling with makes me happy because you've allowed me into a private place that's off limits to everyone else. That makes me feel like I'm a very special person in your life."

Louisa watched Martin for any sign of comprehension. "Does that make sense to you?"

"Mm, yes I think I understand what you're saying.

Noticing the fatigue in her husband's eyes, Louisa reached out for Martin's hand, pulling him to his feet.

"You're tired, Dr. Ellingham, and you have patients to see in the morning."

A short time later, Martin and Louisa layed in bed, Louisa's head resting on Martin's shoulder.

Martin ran his fingertips slowly up and down his wife's arm, "Louisa, do you remember the day that we were talking on the terrace, and I told you to shut up?"

"Mm hmm."

"If I had let you in to my private place that day, do you think we would have ended up in such a mess?"

Louisa sat up and looked at her husband, "I don't know, you never told me why you were so rude. What _was _that about?"

"Mm, my mother had just told me she was leaving Dad. That's also when she told me that I had ruined her marriage... her life. When you came up and started talking, I was struggling to keep it together, and the longer you talked the harder it was getting. I didn't want to lose it in front of you."

Louisa caressed the side of his face, "I'm so sorry, Martin."

Martin shook his head, "No,no. I regretted immediately speaking that way to you. I did want to talk to you about it later, but things... people kept interrupting. I just wonder if things might have been different if I had been able to talk to you about it."

Louisa laid back down with her head on his chest, "Could be, but we can't change the past, can we."

"Mm, no. And I guess we wouldn't have James if things had been different."

"Well, you never know," Louisa lay listening to Martin's heartbeat, steady and strong.

"The chances of our having intercourse on the exact night that James was conceived would be small and the timing of my..."

"Martin, shut up," Louisa whispered in his ear.


	28. Chapter 28

Saturday morning patients seemed to bring out the worst in Dr. Martin Ellingham, and today was no exception. He came through under the stairs to find his reception room half full already, and surgery hours didn't begin for another fifteen minutes. Martin blustered over to Morwenna's desk, his yet untouched espresso in his hand.

"Morwenna! What are all these people doing here, were not even open yet!"

"Sorry, Doc. They were waitin' on the steps when I got here. What do you expect me to do... beat em off with a stick?"

The doctor growled back at his receptionist, "I expect you to do your job, and to tell them to go away unless it's an actual emergency. And to not come back until we're open for business!

Martin snapped his fingers at Morwenna and she scrambled to get the first set of patient notes.

"Whose first?"

"Eddie Rix, should I tell him to go away until his finger with the fish hook stuck in it gets infected and needs to be amputated? _Then_ it would be an actual emergency, wouldn't it Doc?"

Martin stomped off to his consulting room, "Mr. Rix! Come through!"

The doctor gave his patient a visual once over, looking for signs of unusual injuries that could have resulted from Mr. and Mrs. Rixs' aberrant bedroom activities. None apparent, Martin gestured for his patient to have a seat on the exam couch.

He numbed up the man's finger, then pushed the barbed hook on through before disinfecting and bandaging the wound.

"When was your last tetanus booster, Mr. Rix?"

Eddie scowled back at his doctor, "How should I know, Doc. I guess when I was a kid."

Martin went to his medical cupboard and took out a syringe and a small vial, "Alright, we better take care of that now then."

Eddie's face blanched. "But, doc... you know I don't like needles."

Martin glared at the man, "Clostridium tetani bacteria may have already entered your bloodstream. This is a deadly disease... if you don't let me give you this injection you could die."

"I'll take my chances." Eddie grumbled."

The fisherman made a move to get down from the exam couch, but before his feet could hit the floor, Martin had jabbed the needle in his arm.

"Ow, doc! That hurt!"

"Good. Mr. Rix, I don't want you out on your boat until Monday, is that understood?"

"I gotta make a livin' doc," The fisherman whined.

"Goodbye, Mr. Rix!"

Martin had just dispensed with the last of his patients when he heard Bert Large's annoyingly jovial voice drift in from the reception room.

"Hi there, Morwenna! The doc in?"

"Well, yeah... but he's all done seein' patients today Mr. Large. Unless it's an emergency, you'll need to make an appointment for Monday."

"Oh, it is an emergency girl!"

Morwenna gave the portly man a look of scepticism. "Let me go let him know you're here."

Martin looked up from his patient notes when his receptionist stepped into his consulting room.

"What is it Morwenna?" Martin snapped.

"It's Bert Large, he wants to see you."

"Not unless it's an emergency."

"He says it is."

Martin rubbed his forehead, trying to ease a worsening headache. "Alright, send him in... and bring in his patient notes."

Bert waddled through the door and plopped into the chair across from the doctor.

"What is it, Bert?"

"There's a little matter I need your help with, Doc."

Bert reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a small paperback book. "What's a six letter word for chest pain?"

Martin pursed his lips as he slammed his pen down onto his desk, "Get out, Bert!"

Bert struggled to his feet, "Don't go gettin' yerself all worked up now, Doc. It's just, I think if I can get this one word the others will..."

Martin pointed aggressively towards the door, "Bert, OUT!"

Bert put on his best pout and headed out of the office.

"Not in the mood today, I guess," Bert said as he passed Morwenna.

When Martin was finally able to duck under the stairs to rejoin his family, Louisa was making lunch and James was picking at the peas and carrots in the bowl on his high chair tray.

Martin filled a glass with water and downed a couple of paracetamol tablets.

Louisa looked at him sympathetically, "Another headache?"

"Yeah, that idiot Bert was just in. He said it was an emergency and it turned out he needed help on a crossword puzzle."

Louisa fought the smile that was trying to creep across her face, "Well, I think when it comes to Bert, it's important to remember that he's just not going to take life very seriously."

"Yeah," Martin sneered. "He's a real go-with-the-flow kinda guy."

Louisa looked at her husband's taut face. "Martin, why don't you go and have a lie down while I finish lunch. See if you can't shake that headache."

Louisa went to retrieve her husband later to come and eat, and found him lying, dead to the world, on their bed. She reached for his shoulder to wake him, but then thought better of it. He had been even more sleep deprived than calorie deprived lately so she covered him with a blanket and let him be. She stood, gazing at him, for several minutes. How different he looked when he was sleeping, all the furrowed lines on his face gone, that ever present anger lying just below the surface, temporarily forgotten. How she wished he could make peace with his past... but, first he needed to remember what it was that was haunting his present. She leaned over and kissed the forehead of the vulnerable little boy she saw before her, before turning for the stairs.

Martin slept until late afternoon, when borborygmi and it's accompanying sensation of hunger woke him. Louisa looked up from the book she had been reading to James when she noticed his movement in the kitchen.

"Well, hello, sleepy head!" How's the headache?"

"Better I think. Was there anything left from lunch?" Martin asked as he rooted through the refrigerator.

"There's a some soup that I could reheat, and some bread. But, James and I are getting hungry, too. Maybe we could go to Bert's?" Louisa suggested, nodding her head, with eagerness in her eyes.

A small grimace flickered across Martin's face as he let out a soft groan.

"Yes."

The Ellingham family arrived at the restaurant shortly before the dinner rush, so all was relatively quiet. It was a lovely Cornish summer day, just cool enough that the sun's rays felt soothing to a person's slightly chilled skin. They chose a table with a nice view of the harbour.

Bert scurried out to greet them as Louisa took a seat and Martin settled James Henry into a high chair.

"Well, if it isn't the Ellingham's. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Martin gave Bert a look of derision, "I would think that would be self-explanatory. This is a restaurant, is it not?"

"Oh, but of course," Bert replied with a slight chuckle.

"Here are some menus and I'll be right back with your water... bottled for you, doc?"

"Yes...please."

Louisa gave her husband an admonishing stare, "Martin, he's just trying to make polite conversation, can't you just humor him for once?"

Martin's lip curled slightly as he glanced over at Bert, now handing menus to a couple on the other side of the restaurant.

"The man's a plague on all of intelligent humanity."

Louisa intensified her previous stare.

"Martin, stop it!" she hissed. "Maybe that lie down was a bad idea. You seem to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Just leave it be now."

Louisa peered up at him over the top of her menu, before adding with a small smile, "It would make me happy."

He looked back at her before returning his eyes to his dinner selection.

She watched her husband as they ate their dinner. He seemed especially taciturn, and she sensed that something was disturbing him.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Louisa asked, as she spooned the last of James' dinner into his mouth.

Martin shrugged his shoulders slightly, "Mm, just thinking about that dream." He looked off at the harbour for some moments before continuing, "I had it again today."

Louisa's attention turned quickly from her son to her husband, "While you were having your lie down?"

"Mm hmm. I think it is a memory, Louisa... but, I can't make sense of it."

"Maybe, if you were to discuss it with Dr. Newell on Wednesday it would all come together for you."

"Hm, perhaps. I think I'll talk to Ruth tonight... see if any of it makes sense to her."

Louisa smiled at him, "I think that's an excellent idea, and I know it means a lot to Ruth to have you confide in her."

Bert, puffing air, walked up next to their table and lightly pinched James' cheek.

"What a lovely little family this is! Did you two enjoy your dinner?"

Louisa gave him a gracious smile, "It was delicious, Bert... thank you."

"Wonderful, glad to hear it... now can I tempt you with some puds?"

"None for me," replied Martin as he wiped his mouth and folded his napkin before laying it neatly on the table.

"None for me either, Bert. I think we're ready for the bill."

Bert tore off the top page of his receipt book and handed to Martin.

Martin reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"Ah, doc... I just wanted to explain about this morning... it really was an emergency. I have a bet with Jenny. You see, I've always been a whiz at crosswords. People don't know this about me and I don't like to brag, if you know what I mean. So, when she said she could solve this one quicker than I could... well, I have to defend my honor, don't I doc? Anyhow, the last one of us to finish has to lose twenty pounds by Christmas. Doc, I couldn't take it... I can't do without my puds!"

Martin handed Bert the money for their dinner, and as he got up to leave turned to him, "Abulia."

"What's that, doc?"

"Abulia... a-b-u-l-i-a...it's the word you're looking for."

Bert grinned at Martin, "Gee, thanks doc!"

"Glad to help," said Martin as he took Louisa's arm and walked towards the steps.

Louisa looked warmly at her husband as they walked back up Roscarrock hill.

"That was very nice of you to help Bert... but, maybe you shouldn't have told him, he could stand to lose a few pounds."

Martin turned and looked at his wife, "I know... it wasn't the right word."

Louisa put a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle.


	29. Chapter 29

As they approached the surgery, Louisa turned to Martin, "Would you mind if we went on up the hill and sat for a bit? It's such a nice evening... seems a shame to waste it, don't you think?"

"If you want to... yes, we could do that."

As they neared the top, Martin began to feel a vague sense of apprehension. This no longer seemed like a wise idea.

Louisa watched her husband, his pace slowing.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Mm hmm," Martin answered, unconvincingly.

Reaching the coastal path, Louisa went to take a seat on the bench. Martin lagged behind, nervously clutching on to James.

Martin began to feel panic setting in. "Louisa, come and take James... _now_, come and take James!"

Louisa turned around to see her husband holding his baby boy out at arms length, his eyes shut tightly. She jumped up and ran to get James from his father.

Martin's breathing had become rapid and he was beginning to tremble.

"Martin, just sit down on the ground." Louisa was becoming fearful for her husband's safety. She didn't know what to expect of his behaviour and they were quite close to the edge of the cliffs.

"Please, just sit down on the ground... you're scaring me."

Martin stood, eyes unopened, seemingly unaware of his wife's admonitions. A flood of emotions and memories invading his mental processes. His mother's cold stares and hateful remarks... his fathers heavy hand and constant belittling... the feeling of fear and abandonment at boarding school... and perhaps most painful of all, the crushing rejection he felt when he was told by his father that Auntie Joan no longer had the time or energy for his visits. The one person who had shown him love and kindness, who he had trusted completely to not reject him.

Louisa took hold of her husband's clammy hand, talking softy to him, "Come on, sit down. She pulled his hand gently downward with her and he slowly opened his eyes and joined her on the grass.

Louisa looked into Martin's eyes and could see a glimmer of recognition in them now. Breathing a sigh of relief she asked, "Did you remember something?"

"No," he answered, an edge to his voice.

Louisa looked around them and could see the group of horrid teenage girls that roamed that streets of PortWenn coming up the hill. Martin didn't need that right now.

"Let's talk about this at home, alright?"

"Mm, yes," Martin said, rubbing his head.

The only words spoken by either of them before arriving at the surgery were Louisa's two warning words to the girls, "Shut it!"

Martin poured himself a glass of water and Louisa a glass of wine, before joining her on the sofa.

Louisa stroked her fingers along her husband's thigh and waited for him to talk.

"Louisa, could you please not touch me right now? My nerves are frayed and... it's just not helping."

Louisa tried not to be hurt by Martin's request, telling herself that he wasn't pushing her away, he just needed a bit of space at the moment.

Martin inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. "I'd started to think about the other time we were up on the path with James...I guess it triggered something in me. It wasn't a new memory, it was a lot of old memories that seemed to be rushing at me. It was too much and I think I panicked, I'm not sure. I could feel it starting and I was afraid for James. I should have stopped when I noticed I wasn't feeling right, but I didn't know how to explain it to you in a way that wouldn't sound barmy."

"Martin, when you remember things, is it like having it happen to you all over again?"

"Mm hmm."

Well, you're going to react to that, and I don't think it's barmy at all to prepare for that reaction. If one of your diabetic patients could tell that their glucose levels were getting too high or too low, don't you think it would be wise to prepare for it?"

His wife had understood what he was feeling and didn't think any less of him for it. Martin felt a sudden urge to hold his wife and he took her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. She felt so wonderfully warm... and safe.

Louisa was pleasantly surprised by her husband's display of affection and slipped her arms around his back. It was heavenly to be physically close to him again. The emotional distance that had been present for the last weeks seemed to be closing tonight.

Their tender moment was brought to a halt by the baby boy playing on the floor at their feet. James was beginning to complain about the lack of attention he was receiving and Louisa realised it was now past his usual bedtime.

"Martin, this has been lovely, but I think we're going to have a very unhappy son in a minute if I don't give him a bottle and get him off to bed."

"Mm, I'm sure you're right. I could make a quick trip to Ruth's while you're doing that... if that's alright with you."

"That would be fine, but... um, maybe don't be gone too long. I really enjoyed what we were doing," she said huskily.

Ruth was surprised, but happy to see her nephew when she answered her door.

"Martin, is something wrong?"

"No, not really. I was wondering if you might have time to talk."

"Certainly, come in."

Martin and Ruth went into the kitchen and Ruth made them each of cup of tea. She watched her nephew as he tapped his fingers nervously on the table.

"Well, are you going to tell me why you're here or do I have to guess?"

"Ah, no. I had a dream a couple of nights ago and I thought you might be able to help me make sense of it."

"Well, Martin, I'm not a strong proponent of the Freudian school of thought, and certainly not a big believer in the legitimacy of dream analysis.

"No, it's nothing like that. I'm just wondering if... maybe it's not so much of a dream as it is a memory. I had the same dream again today while I was having a lie-down. It seemed almost identical to the dream I had the other night."

"Alright, I'm all ears." Ruth put her teacup down and folded her hands on the table.

Martin cleared his throat, trying to decide how to begin. "Well, some of it's foggy... I'm on the floor, hanging onto something. I can't tell if it's a figure or..." Martin shook his head, trying to recentre his thoughts.

"Whatever it is, I'm gripping it so tightly that my fingers are locked in place. I hear Dad's voice yell at me to let go. He sounds as angry as I can ever remember. Then I feel something pulling at me... pulling on my shirt, but my fingers are locked and I can't let go of whatever it is that I'm holding onto. And, whatever force was pulling on my shirt, grabs onto my arm. It grabs so tightly that it hurts. Then I'm being thrown back into the dark. I can hear a cracking sound... or a snap, and there's terrible pain in my arm. Then it's just dark... I'm alone in the dark and my arm hurts. And then I wake up."

Ruth sat, her brow furrowed. "Well, I'll certainly give this a lot of thought but nothing comes to mind, right off... I'm sorry, Martin. I was really hoping I might be able to give you some answers."

Martin shook his head, "No need to apologise. I just thought something might sound familiar to you."

He slid his teacup back and forth on the table, "Why do you think that all this has started now?"

Ruth cocked her head at him, unsure of what he was getting at. "Do you mean the dream?"

"No, everything. The return of my blood sensitivity, the depression, the nightmares... everything."

"Martin, I think that question will be answered when you remember what it is that you've spent the last fifty years trying to forget.

"Mm, yes."

Martin stood to leave and Ruth came over and, stepping out of character, gave him an awkward hug.

"Remember, you have Louisa and me to help you Martin. Don't try to do this on your own."

Martin hiked back up Roscarrock hill towards the surgery. He was feeling disappointed that the visit to Ruth's hadn't been more productive, but as he neared home his thoughts shifted back to Louisa, how wonderful she felt in his arms.

When Martin came in the door, Louisa was coming down the stairs, having just put James to bed.

"How did things go at Ruth's... was she of any help?"

"No, nothing sounded familiar to her. She's going to think about it though and let me know if anything comes to mind. Is James in bed?"

"Yes, he fell asleep halfway into the story."

Louisa followed Martin out to the kitchen, "So, Ruth didn't remember anything from your dream?"

"I believe I just said that Louisa," Martin answered, curtly.

"Yes, sorry. I was just really hoping you'd get some answers. Maybe it _is_ just a dream."

"Mm, I don't think so," Martin said shaking his head.

Louisa reached up to get a cup out off the shelf. "Want a cuppa before bed?"

"No... thank you." Martin went to the sofa, and picking up a book he settled in to read.

"Martin, why do you feel so sure that it's more than a dream?" Louisa asked as she sat down next to him.

"It makes sense to me somehow." Martin wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and pulled her up close to him.

"Have you ever been talking to someone and you find yourself grasping for a word... a commonly used word that seems to have vaporised in an instant?"

Louisa tipped her head back to look up at him, "I know what you mean, I think the young people call them "senior moments".

Martin gave her the smallest of smiles, "Yes. This dream feels much the same. It's there somewhere in my catalogue of events, I just can't pull it out."

Louisa shifted slightly so that she could reach out to stroke Martin's thigh. "Is this okay... me touching you like this now?"

Martin's eyes closed as he sucked in a breath of air. "It's definitely okay now, but... maybe we should go upstairs."

As they ascended the steps, Martin found himself looking at his wife in a way that he hadn't in a very long time. He needed her.


	30. Chapter 30

Martin was roused the next morning by the rays of sunlight peeking over the windowsills. He gazed at his beautiful wife as the fogginess of sleep cleared his eyes, entranced by the absolute perfection that he saw in her. If he could inhabit her mind for just a few moments, perhaps he could understand what it was that she saw in him. Why she allowed someone like him to make love to her.

Martin thought back to the remarkable day that their son was conceived. He had found himself wondering then if their consummation had been some sort of resplendent illusion. Before Louisa Glasson walked into his life, and tossed all of his expectations for his future to the wind, he had resigned himself to a life of lonely bachelorhood, focusing all of his energy on his work.

He allowed his gaze to drift down, following the soft curves where her neck merged with her shoulders. Would he always feel the same sense of pain and guilt when he looked at her there? He saw a slight movement and glanced down at their hands lying side by side. Martin groaned internally as he remembered that ill-fated taxi ride together, the temptation and trepidation that he felt as he tried to find the intestinal fortitude to slide his hand over to meet hers.

He allowed his palm to glide across the sheet until his skin made contact with his wife's. Her eyes fluttered slightly before opening and meeting with his. Martin brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and let the backs of his fingers brush languidly down her cheek.

"Morning Mrs. Ellingham"

Louisa gave him a knowing smile, "Good morning husband, how did you sleep?"

"Quite well... and you?"

"Good... you tired me out last night, you know."

"Mm, sorry about that, just trying to catch up on my matrimonial obligations. I'll need to try harder to pace myself." Martin leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

"Well... I hope you won't try too hard," Louisa pushed her husband onto his back, stretching herself out on top of him and giving his earlobe a playful nip.

Martin wrapped his arms around her, lifting his head to place kisses on her neck. He found his hands gravitating downwards, to the gentle curves of her hips. He caressed her, working his hands under her nightdress, seeking her velvety skin.

Louisa leaned over, whispering into his ear, "Martin, I want you."

That her husband wanted her as well was becoming increasingly apparent, and she sat up on top of him and slipped the nightdress over her head, letting it drop onto the floor.

Martin took in a long ragged breath as she bared herself to him. God, she was lovely! He wrapped his arms around her again and pivoted her onto her back. Having rid himself of his boxers, he lowered himself gently onto her. She once again took his breath away and he felt the familiar tightness growing in his chest.

His eyelids closed as she enveloped him, his senses all focused on her. The sweet taste when his lips touched hers... the alluring scent borne on the gentle wafts of air as she moved under him... the warmth and softness, utter femininity of her body, touching his. It was all so glorious, but then Martin began to feel the demons of his nightmares trying to intrude on the moment. He was prepared for them this time, however, and he opened his eyes, focusing on the exquisite woman lying beneath him. Louisa felt her husband's body stiffen and she looked up into his face. His soft grey orbs were staring back at her, the love she saw in them, intense. Martin began to move again and they rode a wave of pleasure over the edge... together.

They lay, wrapped in each others arms. Martin focused on a crack in the ceiling, thinking about what had transpired moments before.

"Louisa, do you know what just happened?"

Louisa propped herself up on an elbow and gave her husband an impish grin, "I'm pretty sure I do, should I explain it to you doctor?"

Martin rubbed his thumb across her cheek, "That's alright, I think I might have a textbook in my consulting room that covers that kind of thing."

"I'm sorry Martin, you were going to say something serious weren't you?"

"Mm... I um... had those images pop into my head again... but, this time I was able to stay in control. I opened my eyes and focused on you... on how much I love you."

Martin watched his wife as she stared back at him, tears welling in her eyes.

"That is perhaps, the nicest, most romantic thing you have ever said to me, Martin Ellingham."

He responded with one of his classic befuddled expressions.

Louisa grinned at him, "You'll figure it out."

Monday's routine morning turned quickly into an afternoon and evening that Martin would prefer to forget. The usual practice schedule had been suspended so that Martin could meet with the NSPCC authorities in Wadebridge at four o'clock. A decision would be made, based at least partly on information that would be provided by Dr. Ellingham and Joe Penhale, as to how best to safeguard the Hanley children. Martin had hoped that he would hear from Jim Hanley before now, but given his own behaviour the last time they met, Martin wasn't surprised that the man hadn't followed up on his offer to get him into treatment for his drinking problem. He planned to stop out at the Hanley farm before heading to Wadebridge; a last ditch effort to persuade him to deal with his addiction.

Martin had one patient to see after returning from lunch. Eddie Rix was back in to see the doctor about the wound from the fishhook that Martin had removed two days before. It was now badly infected and Martin knew why.

"Mr. Rix, were you out on your boat over the weekend?"

Eddie screwed up his face and looked at the floor, "Well Doc, I had to be. I can't afford to miss a day out on the water."

"Well, that was just brilliant wasn't it! Now you're going to miss a solid week of work while we get this infection under control!"

Martin lanced the wound and had started to drain the pus from the abscess that had formed when the expected nausea hit him. He raced to the bin, where he threw up the lunch that he had just consumed.

He finished draining, cleaning and bandaging the the man's finger then turned to his patient, "Now, Mr. Rix, I'm going to send you off with a prescription for an antibiotic, which you can get from Mrs. Tishell. Hopefully, this will be the last time I see you... for this particular injury."

Martin held the door for the man and as Eddie walked out to the reception room he turned to ask the doctor, "So if I'm takin' this antibi, can I go out on my boat?"

Martin stood staring at the man in disbelief, "NO! Of course not!"

Then turning to go back to his consulting room, he muttered an annoyed, "Why do I bother?"

Martin sat down at his desk to finish up with Eddie Rix's patient notes. He heard the phone ring and moments later his receptionist appeared in the doorway.

"Chris Parsons is on the phone for you Doc."

"Yes," Martin held the patient notes out to Morwenna and she turned to leave.

"Morwenna! Close the door behind you, please!"

Morwenna gave the doctor an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, "Sorry Doc."

Martin reached for the phone,expecting to be informed of a patient complaint about his less than charming bedside manner. However, Chris was actually calling to ask Martin to speak at an upcoming joint meeting with the area CCG and an NHS investigatory committee charged with managing the reorganisation of the nations ambulance system.

"They want to make some rather severe financial cutbacks as well, Martin. This could have a serious negative impact on the quality of emergency care in your area. I'm hoping that your reputation as a vascular surgeon, as well as a G.P, could sway some of the committee members to reconsider cuts here in Cornwall."

Martin leaned back in his chair, tapping his Biro on the armrest, "What are we talking here, Chris? We won't lose our ambulance in Wadebridge will we?"

"Actually Mart, they want to eliminate our air ambulance. We'd have to share with Plymouth."

"Were did they dig up these idiots! Have they even bothered to look at a map? One air ambulance isn't enough to service all of Cornwall and it takes at least forty-five minutes, on a good day I might add, for a ground ambulance to get to Truro from here. Haven't they heard of the 'golden hour'?"

"I know, Mart. It's not me you have to convince though, mate. So, can I count on you to be at that meeting?"

Martin let out a long sigh, "Yes, you've got me."

Martin grumbled as he hung up the phone. The relative lack of bureaucratic monkey business that he had to deal with in his work as a G.P. was one of the few advantages he had found over the position he held as Chief of Vascular Surgery.

He glanced at his watch and realised he needed to get out to Jim Hanley's. He wasn't looking forward to either another encountre with Mr. Hanley or to being confined to a vehicle with Joe Penhale.

Penhale's enthusiasm for the outing certainly surpassed Martin's.

"Well, this should be fun, don't ya think doc? A real adventure... just the two amigos... exploring the great beyond."

Martin gave Joe his best sneer, "We're driving to Wadebridge, Penhale, not river rafting in Turkey."

"Right you are there, Doc. Still..."

"I'm not in the mood, Penhale."

Jim Hanley seemed much more approachable today than he had on Martin's last visit to his farm, and as far as he could tell, the man had not been drinking.

"Mr. Hanley, I'd like to apologise for my behaviour when I was out here last Thursday, it was very unprofessional of me to strike you the way I did."

"It's okay, Doc. I reckon I had it comin' considerin' what I did to my boy. Just so you know, I haven't had a drink since then."

"That's good to hear. Um, P.C. Penhale and I'll be meeting with the people at protective services later this afternoon and I'd like to have something positive to report. Are you willing to get professional treatment for your alcoholism?"

"It may not look it doctor, but I do love my wife and kids. I'll do the treatment thing if they promise not to take 'em away from me."

"They won't make you any promises Mr. Hanley, but I think that if you can prove to them that you're serious about dealing with this and can show that you have the problem in hand, they will allow your children to be returned to you. Do you want me to make some calls and find an appropriate treatment facility?"

"I'd be grateful if you would. Thank you."

The meeting with the NSPCC people went as Martin expected. Evan and his younger sister would be allowed to return home once Mr. Hanley had met all the necessary requirements.

Martin was looking forward to getting home to his wife and son and the quiet and solitude he would find there. He had been relatively headache free for the last two days but the hours of listening to Joe Penhale's constant yammering had taken a toll, and Martin was now feeling a constant pounding in his forehead. They were about halfway between Wadebridge and PortWenn when they spotted several cars pulled to the side of the road.

"I think you better pull it over Doc, could be someone in need of assistance. As they neared the gathering of vehicles, Martin noticed a motorcycle lying on the verge and a body lying some fifteen or twenty feet away from it. Martin felt a growing trepidation. As a vascular surgeon, he had spent many unpleasant hours in operating theatres, trying to piece cyclists back together again.

He grabbed his bag from the backseat and hurried to the figure on the ground. It was every bit as bad as he had anticipated. The young male victim was bleeding profusely and showing definitive signs of a traumatic brain injury.

Martin turned to Penhale, "Call for an air ambulance... tell them to prepare for a haemorrhaging patient with a probable TBI. Then get these gawpers out of here Penhale!"

"Right Doc!"

Martin stayed by his patient until the air ambulance crew arrived. It sickened him to see such a young person having to face a life forever altered by one fateful moment in time.

Martin and P.C. Penhale returned to the Lexus. It was only when he went to pull the driver's side door shut that Martin noticed his blood soaked sleeves. He had been able to keep his nausea in check while tending to his patient, but he could no longer hold it back and quickly swung the door open, just in time to vomit onto the pavement. He drove the rest of the way back to PortWenn with the metallic odor of blood hanging in the air, and Joe Penhale's voice drumming a steady percussive beat against his already pounding head. By the time he dropped the constable off at the police station, Martin felt as if vultures had been pecking at his brain for the last three and a half hours.


	31. Chapter 31

Martin sat in Dr. Newell's office on Wednesday, unsure of how to answer the question he had just been asked.

"Martin, I asked you to think back to your earliest memory of being abused. Do you have any idea of how old you may have been?"

Martin huffed out a breath of air and furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question."

"I know that you have memories of being abused, so why do you say you don't understand the question?"

"I have memories of overly harsh discipline. Is that what you would like to know about?"

Dr. Newell clicked his pen while rocking back and forth in his chair. "Okay, let's start with that. How old were you when your parents first began using overly harsh discipline?"

"I don't know. I can't really remember a time when it wasn't a part of my life. My Aunt Ruth told me once that my father believed that a crying baby should be left alone in a closed room. He called it solitary confinement. She said that I cried a lot."

"When you did the exercise I asked you to do, where you imagined James in your place, did the punishments seem abusive?"

The therapist sat waiting for a response from his patient. Martin stared at the man, jaws clenched.

Dr. Newell rolled back towards his desk, "Martin, the first and perhaps most important step in dealing with your past is accepting your parent's treatment of you for what it was... abuse. Your parents began abusing you at a very young age, and it's extremely traumatic for young children to admit to what's being done to them. They cope with their lot in life by excusing the abuse as punishment that they deserved. This gives them some sense of control over the situation.

Your father beat you with his belt because you had disobeyed your grandfather. By telling yourself that you deserved the beating... that it was justifiable punishment, you could then decide to obey your grandfather in the future, thereby giving you some control over whether or not your father abused you again."

"Isn't that the point of punishment?"

"Remember the exercise you did with putting James in your place. Your parents crossed the line between punishment and abuse. What you're struggling with now is giving up that sense of control and admitting that your parents abused you."

Martin stood and walked to the window. "I think I know I was abused, but when I admit to it ... talk about it... I lose self-respect. I hear my father's words in my head, 'grow a backbone, Martin... take it like a man'. Admitting it makes me feel weak and that's not the kind of man I want to be."

"Martin, between now and when I see you next week, I'd like you to think about the kind of man you think your wife and son would like you to be... jot down some adjectives for me. And just for grins and giggles, why don't you make a separate list of the kind of man you would like to be. And, it would be perfectly alright if you were completely happy as you are now."

"So, tell me how your week went, are the headaches any better?"

Martin turned around to face his doctor, "Yes, some. I haven't had them as frequently the last several days, but stress seems to trigger them and they can be rather severe when I do get them."

"What do you think doctor, should we try something else?" Dr. Newell said as he claimed his perch on the corner of the desk.

"I think I'd like to give it another week, then revisit the question."

"Alright. How about the nightmares... any better?"

"Not really. There's one in particular that seems very real. I think it might actually be a memory... I don't know"

After relating the dream to his doctor, Martin was asked to sit back down.

"Martin, I want you to close your eyes and think for a few minutes about the dream. Don't focus on the obvious, try to look for anything that you might have forgotten about. Look around, what room are you in? You said that you were down on the floor... what kind of floor is it? Can you see any part of this force that grabs you? Perhaps, shoes or clothing. Is there a smell? Try to remember things that you weren't so obvious initially."

Dr. Newell could see that this was an exercise that Martin was uncomfortable with. "Why don't I step out and get a couple of cups of tea. I'll leave you alone for just a bit... white, no sugar, right?"

"Mm."

The therapist shut the door behind him and Martin closed his eyes, trying to relax and replay the dream in his mind. What was he holding onto... nothing came to him. What was the room like? He remembered hearing approaching footsteps echoing off wood floors. When he was thrown back he fell onto a hard surface. Then his father's voice... yelling. He felt something grab his arm, it was his father... he recognised the ring on his finger. Now he could see his father's angry face.

Dr. Newell re entered the room, setting two cups down and sitting on the desk in front of Martin.

"Well, anything new come to you?"

Martin tried to slow his breathing before answering, "It was my father, I saw his hand and recognised his ring."

He closed his eyes again before continuing on, "The floors were wood... it might have been Dad's office. After he threw me back, he stepped forward and he put his foot down in something... I'd spilled something on the floor I think... he was mad because I'd spilled something."

Dr. Newell leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, "What were you hanging onto?"

Martin shook his head, "That's all I can see. But I can remember now having a broken arm. Dad set it himself and splinted it."

"He didn't take you to the doctor?"

Martin closed his eyes again, trying to remember more, "No, he came into my room that night... after I'd gone to bed."

The doctor watched his patient closely, "Without anaesthesia?"

"It's how they did it years ago."

Dr. Newell shook his head slightly in disbelief, "That must have been very painful."

Martin sucked in a ragged breath, "Dad said to be quiet, not to disturb Mum. It did hurt... but, I didn't make a sound. I thought Dad might be proud of me for having been brave through the whole thing, but he just put a splint on my arm and left. I think he was still mad."

Dr. Newell could see Martin's body trembling, "And you were left on your own to deal with the pain?"

"Mm."

The therapist felt anger rising in him, but tried to focus on his patient. "Martin, do you remember how old you were when this happened?"

"Yes, I was seven. It was the holiday break, so I was at home."

Dr. Newell pulled the extra chair over next to Martin and handed him his cup of tea. "Here, you're shivering. This should warm you up a bit."

Martin sat, trying to hold onto his teacup with shaking hands, "I'm glad he's dead... but he didn't deserve to die so easily."

Martin turned to his doctor, his eyes cold. "He died of a stroke, it should have been a painful death."

"It's to be expected that you'll feel anger for the way your parents treated you. Remember though, that anger is not really an emotion, but rather a desire for revenge. And most importantly, remember that adults who were abused as children tend to turn that anger on themselves... develope a self-loathing if you will."

"And you think that's what I've done?"

"If you're like the typical abuse victim, yes. Although, I have to say Martin, you aren't like the other abuse victims that I've treated. But yes, I think that is what you've done."

"Louisa said to me once, 'You're not like the rest of us'. I often wish I was."

"Well I for one, am very glad that you're not. I don't think you would have dealt with the abuse as well as you have if you were like the rest of us. And, the rest of us would have been short changed one very fine and talented doctor and surgeon."

Dr. Newell set his cup back down on the desk, "Were any of your relatives aware of the abuse going on in your home?"

"I don't think they knew about most of it, but I think my Aunt Ruth and Auntie Joan suspected."

"But they did nothing."

"Dad was a well respected surgeon, they were wealthy. I'm not sure much could have been done. Dad would hire an expensive attorney and their efforts would have been for nothing. Things were different at that time."

"Yes, thankfully we have a system in place now that can spare children what you went through."

Martin swallowed hard, thinking of young Evan Hanley.

Dr. Newell watched to see if his patient seemed to have recovered from their session. "How are you feeling now? Safe to drive home do you think?"

Martin sighed, "Yes, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Alright, we'll see you and Louisa on Friday then."

Martin hesitated, "Um, would it be alright with you if Louisa and I switch spots next week. I need to be here for a meeting on Friday and I doubt she's going to want to wait around for me."

Dr. Newell put a hand on Martin's back, "Sure, that's no problem. Whatever works for the two of you."

Louisa had dinner waiting for him when he arrived at home. Martin found he had mixed feelings as he watched her pull a bib over James Henry's head and leaned over to kiss the baby's cheek. He was filled with relief and happiness for his son, that he would grow up feeling loved and wanted... a cherished member of a family. But he could no longer deny the void that existed in him... the family that should have loved and cherished him... an emptiness that he would need to find a way to live with.


	32. Chapter 32

Louisa watched Martin from across the table, wondering where his thoughts were tonight. She was anxious to hear about his appointment with Dr. Newell, but knew that she needed to let him decide when to share those details with her.

James picked up his spoon and pounded it loudly on his high chair tray, getting the attention of his father.  
>"What is it James, are you all done there?" Martin left the table and grabbed a wet washcloth to deal with the sticky mess on his son's face.<p>

"How bout we go and have a story, James?"

Louisa looked across at her husband's uneaten dinner. Something was bothering him tonight. "Martin, I'll clean up the dishes and you boys can spend the evening together. In fact, could you run to Mrs. Tishell's and pick up some nappies?"

Martin looked up quickly, giving his wife a small grimace. "Oh, why don't we let you do that. You know what she'll be like if I walk in there with James."

"Fine, Martin. Then go to the market if you'd rather not deal with Mrs. Tishell."

Martin hemmed and hawed, "How bout James and I get his bath out of the way while you run for the nappies."

Louisa cocked her head slightly, perplexed by her husband's sudden bout with agoraphobia. "Oh for goodness sake, Martin. I'm just trying to get you two to go out and get some fresh air!"

Martin stood up and stomped off towards the front door, "Fine Louisa, I'll go get the nappies and leave you to James."

Louisa called to her husband, but he was out the door and down the steps before she could reach the reception room. "What was that all about, James?" She leaned over to pick up the baby, "Oh James, will we ever get your Daddy sorted?"

Louisa finished with the dinner clean up and bathed the baby before settling in on the sofa with James. They were just finishing the bedtime story when Martin finally returned.

"You must have walked all the way to Wadebridge for those nappies, you've been gone forever!"

A look of chagrin fell on Martin's face when he realised he had forgotten to pick up what he was sent out for.

"Martin, you didn't get the nappies? Everything will be closed by now."

Martin reached over and picked up the car keys from the kitchen table, "Don't _worry_ Louisa, I'll find someplace that's still open," He said, as he hurried for the door.

"Martin... Martin! Come back and sit down."

Martin stood shaking his head and blinking his eyes at her in confusion. "But... you said we needed nappies!"

"Martin, we have enough to get by until I can go to Mrs. Tishell's in the morning. I just thought you might like to get out by yourself with James... I didn't mean to..." Louisa wiped the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes.

Martin stood staring at his wife. He never knew what to do in a situation like this. "Louisa, I'm very sorry about the nappies... I just started thinking about things and forgot to pick them up."

Martin knelt down in front of his wife and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe her tears. "I'll get some first thing in the morning."

Louisa looked up at Martin's face and saw the sweet desperation in his eyes. "Oh, Martin. It's not _about_ the nappies. It's just..." She continued very softly, "I worry about you."

Martin shifted himself onto the sofa next to her. "I didn't mean to make you worry. It was just... a lot happened at my appointment today, and since I try not to think about those things while I'm driving... I think I just got lost in thought and forgot... the nappies."

Louisa leaned over and brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Why don't I go and tuck James in while you make us something hot to drink. Then we can talk some more?" Louisa said, nodding her head encouragingly.

"Mm, yes."

Louisa stood up and started for the stairs with James before turning to Martin, "Could you make me some hot cocoa?"

Martin opened his mouth to remind her of the harmful effects of a diet high in refined sugars but was brought up short by his wife's gestured shush.

When Louisa came back downstairs she found Martin waiting on the sofa, a glass of water in his hand and a cup of cocoa on the table. She smiled at him, "You're learning, husband."

"Yes... did James go down alright?"

Louisa sat down next to Martin, sliding over and pulling his arm around her. "No problems, he's such a good boy."

They sat awkwardly for some moments, Martin not knowing how to begin to tell Louisa about what he had discussed with Dr. Newell, and Louisa not wanting to push him.

Finally, Martin cleared his throat and opened the conversation, "Um, I had an interesting visit with Dr. Newell today. He helped me to figure out what my dream was all about."

Louisa looked at him apprehensively, "And... is it a memory?"

"Yes... He helped me to remember some less obvious things that were in the dream... things that I hadn't considered."

Martin could feel a nervous tightness developing in his chest. He was afraid that his wife would pity him... feel sorry for him.

"And..." Louisa looked at him anxiously.

"It was my father. I remember now seeing his hand... his ring. I had spilled something on the floor in his study and it made him angry. He grabbed me by the arm... he was too rough. When he threw me back my arm snapped."

Martin turned his head away from Louisa, he didn't want to see her immediate reaction. "I don't remember anything else about that day until that night after I'd gone to bed. Dad came into my room and reduced the fracture in my arm."

Louisa swallowed several times, trying to stave off the sobs that were trying to escape. She didn't want Martin to feel he needed to console her. She quickly wiped away the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

"Was that painful, Martin?"

"Yes... very. Dad said I wasn't to make a fuss though, so I stayed quiet. I told Dr. Newell that I thought Dad might be proud of me for not crying... for taking it like a man, as he used to say to me. But, he didn't say anything about it... just put the splint on and left the room."

Louisa sat quietly for a few moments before speaking. "Martin forgive me, but your Dad was a bloody idiot. I don't know how he could have been so callous and uncaring of his own son. I can't begin to imagine you treating James that way. I'm so sorry that you didn't..."

Martin interrupted her, "Louisa, please don't pity me. I can't stand the thought of you looking at me in that way"

"Martin Ellingham, I have always admired you, but the more I learn about you, the more admiration and respect I have for you. I do pity that little boy though. How old were you when this happened?"

"Seven, I was home from boarding school for the holidays."

"Oh, Martin. What a horrible year it must have been for you! Being sent off to boarding school in September, then to have that happen just three months later."

That year was really pretty much par for the course when it came to his childhood years but Martin didn't want Louisa to know that, at least not now.

Martin looked at his wife, her kind and caring eyes, and thought about what a loving mother she was to their son.

"Louisa... I'm very happy for James that he'll grow up with parents who love and cherish him."

Martin's words were happy, but she saw a profound sadness in his eyes that made her hurt for him. She and James could love him, and cherish him from this point on, but there would be no giving him back the loving childhood home that had been stolen from the little boy in him so many years ago.

Martin's words interrupted her thoughts, "Um, I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday... Chris called to ask me to speak to an NHS investigatory committee, put together to look at reorganising the nation's ambulance system. They want to eliminate the air ambulance in Truro and have Cornwall share the one heli in Plymouth."

"Well that makes no sense. The helicopter isn't always available the way it is already, how in the world do they expect us to get by with half as many?"

"That's what Chris is hoping I can get them to understand. Could be a tall order... they probably already have their minds made up."

"When's the big meeting?"

"In a week and a half. On Friday... I mentioned it to Dr. Newell. I was thinking that maybe we could do our couples session on Wednesday next week, and I could do my session on Friday. That way you won't have to wait around for me. It's hard to say how long the meeting could drag on."

"That's ideal actually, we have the big term kick off celebration on Friday and I really do have to be there."

Martin was happy to have navigated safely through that issue. He didn't want Louisa to feel as though he had arbitrarily made a decision that affected her as well.

As they layed in bed that night, Martin thought about what Dr. Newell had said about anger. Yes, he did feel some anger towards his parents, but grief was the overriding emotion churning in him tonight. There had always been at least a remote possibility... hope... in his mind that his parents might change over time and come to want him in their lives. But, now his father was gone and he had admitted to himself that his mother was incapable of loving, or even feeling any fondness for another human being.

"Louisa?"

"Um hmm... I'm still awake."

"Dr. Newell told me today that it was important that I admit to being abused as a child. I'm having a hard time with that."

Louisa rolled onto her side to face him, "Why do you think that is? You know it's true... don't you?"

"If I put James in my place, yes... I do. But, Dad would always berate me for being spineless if I cried... or pleaded with him to stop when... He'd tell me to take it like a man. I'm having a lot of difficulty admitting it to myself, because along with that admission comes this feeling of inadequacy... I feel like less of a man. I know it's illogical but I just can't..."

"Martin, that night in the hospital... after the ambulance ride with Peter Cronk... do remember me going back into the building before getting in the taxi?"

"Yes."

"I saw that doctor... the one that had been a student of yours... he'd spread the word about your blood issue. Well, he was in the hallway when we were leaving the building, so I went back to talk to him. I told him you were ten times the man he would ever be. And I meant that. You are ten times the man _any_ man will ever be... in my eyes. Try to remember that, and think about whether or not you even care anymore about what your father would think of you. If he were alive today, would he be the kind of man you would want to emulate... would he, Martin?"

"Of course not."

"I will never pity you... want to see you have the love and happiness that you deserve, yes... but never pity you. Your dad though was a pretty pitiful man... and father."

Martin rolled onto his side, wrapping his arm around his wife. "Dr. Newell thinks that I turned the anger that I felt about the abuse, towards myself. I have my doubts about that."

Louisa absent-mindedly traced circles around Martin's ear, "I think he's right. You don't feel you deserve me. Why else would you feel that way?"

"There are perfectly legitimate reasons for that. I'm gruff, monosyllabic and rude to start with."

Louisa reached up and kissed his cheek, "Ah, but you forgot about well-meaning, and that trumps the other three."

"Hmm... I've been making a crap list."

Louisa sat up abruptly, "Martin! Please tell me you're kidding!"

"It's helpful to me... reminds me of what I need to work on."

Louisa held out her hand, snapping her fingers at her husband, "Give it to me Martin, right now."

Martin rolled over and pulled open the drawer on his bedside table. Sighing, he handed her a folded up sheet of paper.

Louisa scanned the list of negative qualities before picking up the pen by her diary, scratching out half of what Martin had written down.

"Now, _these_ are legitimate problems that you could stand to work on. Make another list... ways to improve in these areas, then we'll throw this one away."

The next morning, Martin went in to take a shower. By the sink he found a folded up piece of paper. Opening it up he read, _'Reasons Martin Ellingham Deserves Louisa Ellingham'_.


	33. Chapter 33

Louisa woke at six o'clock on Friday morning, finding herself alone in bed.

"Martin?" she called out sleepily.

When she didn't get an answer she dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her slippers and dressing gown and padded down the stairs in search of her husband. She found him hunched over his desk, scribbling notes onto a piece of paper.

"Martin, what are you doing up? It's six a.m!" she said quietly, trying to avoid rousing the baby.

Martin jumped when his wife's voice punctuated the silence, and he hurriedly slipped the sheet of paper into his desk drawer. "Mm, nothing... nothing."

"It's very early, couldn't you sleep?"

Martin sat rigidly with his palms flat on his desktop.

Stroking his cheek, Louisa leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Martin tipped his head back and returned her gesture of endearment, "I just had some work to get done so I thought I'd get an early start."

Louisa looked at him askance, "Hmm... well, we're both up. Let's have breakfast together for a change."

"Mm, no. I better finish up here then get showered before my first patient arrives."

"Martin, you need to be eating more. You've been losing weight you know."

"Yes... it's been pointed out to me." Martin's stomach lurched at the thought of his mother's derisive comment.

"Alright then, you go up and shower and I'll have breakfast ready when you come down," Louisa said as she headed off to the kitchen.

Martin could see that he was not going to win this argument and did as he was told.

After readying himself for the day he walked across to James' room, standing in the doorway listening to the small, happy sounds coming from the baby cot. Martin moved across the floor and watched his little boy, looking for evidence of his own genetic influence in the creation of this fresh new life.

"Good morning, James. Did you sleep well?" Martin picked him up, and after stealing a breath of sweet baby fragrance from the boy's head, he changed his nappy, dressed him and gave him a final inspection to insure that he was presentable. Louisa turned around when she heard her husbands heavy footsteps behind her.

"James! How's my boy this morning?" She took the baby from his father and settled him into his high chair, putting a bowl of chopped banana on the tray.

"Martin, have a seat please. I don't want you sneaking off on me." Louisa glanced up at him, giving him a stern look.

She took Martin's plate to the hob and returned it with a generous amount of food. Martin sat staring glumly at the table.

"Oh Martin, you look like you've been led to the gallows. Please, just eat it... for me," she said, tosseling his hair.

"It's fried eggs and kippers, Louisa... full of saturated fat and calories that..."

"Yes Martin, and fat and calories are two things you're seriously in need of right now."

She tapped her finger firmly on the table, "Sit here until your plate is cleared. I can't just sit back and watch you whither away anymore. I mean it, Martin!" she said, having detected her husband's dismissive eye rolling.

Martin knew when his wife would not give on an issue and this was one of those issues.

"Um, Louisa. Did you remember to ask Poppy to come early? You have your scan and x-ray today."

"I did remember. In fact, I asked her to come and have lunch with us. I thought it would give her a little time to get to know us better."

Martin stared at his wife, his fork suspended in the air. "Oh... I'll get lunch at Bert's then."

"No you won't Martin. You'll have lunch with Poppy and James and me... and you will behave in a civilised manner, right?"

Martin winced, "Why don't I leave this to you and James, I can get to know Poppy better once you're sure she's settled into the job."

"You'll be fine, Martin. James and I will do most of the talking, won't we James?" Louisa rubbed her hand over the baby's head.

Martin sighed, he felt another headache coming on.

Martin's morning passed slowly with an assortment of the most mundane maladies known to modern medicine. By lunchtime he was actually looking forward to lunch, Poppy or no Poppy.

Louisa was putting bowls of soup on the table when Martin came through under the stairs. James was in his high chair, his face lighting up at the sight of his father. Martin picked the boy up for a quick cuddle and hello before the meal began. Poppy sat awkwardly at the other end of the table.

"Hello, Poppy," Martin said before turning quickly to put James back into his chair.

Poppy wrapped her arms around herself, "Um, hello."

"Martin, will you please feed James?" Louisa knew that keeping Martin distracted with James would ease the strain on both him and their new childminder.

"Mm, yes."

Louisa was beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of her little meet and greet scheme when Poppy surprised her by addressing Martin.

"Dr. Ellingham, can you tell me where I could go to get some training in first aid. I'm thinking mostly CPR... and what to do if James would choke on something... that kind of thing."

Unprepared for the question, Martin turned and looked at the girl, wide-eyed.

"Uh, I could do some checking but I know something could be arranged. And we of course, would cover any expenses. That's a good idea, Poppy."

Martin was actually planning to insist that Poppy take a course such as this, but it pleased him greatly that she took the initiative to broach the subject on her own.

Poppy sat up straighter in her chair and looked as though the Queen of England had just bestowed on her the highest compliment.

Martin scraped a dribble of applesauce off James' chin before turning to address Poppy again, "Um, I could show you how CPR is done on a child of James' age, and it would be wise if you were also familiar with the paedriatric method of performing the Heimlich manoeuver. We can go over this after we've finished eating."

"Good!" Poppy said, smiling broadly at Louisa.

Louisa finished cleaning up after lunch and went to the doorway of the consulting room to watch as Martin wrapped up his mini course with Poppy. She had never seen her husband in a teaching capacity, and was surprised at how comfortable he seemed to be with it. And Poppy seemed to be comfortable with Martin as her teacher.

Martin had just enough time to wrap up a few loose ends in the surgery, and to get arrangements made for Jim Hanley's stay at an area drug treatment centre, before leaving for Truro. He dropped Louisa at the entrance to the hospital before going to park the car in the lot by Dr. Newell's office. Knowing that his wife's tests would take a little while, he sat down on a bench by the bus stop. His thoughts were focused on his conversation with Louisa Wednesday night, and he wondered why she seemed to take offense to his "crap list". Perhaps he would need to get her help in coming up with the kind of list she was wanting. A glimmer of a smile came to his face as he recalled the list she had left for him in the bathroom.

Martin stared off at the hospital across the street, thinking about the last time they had been in that building together... the day after he had performed her embolization. They had made good progress since then and he was learning to be a better husband. That gave him hope. But, many of the problems between them were a result of the baggage left from his horrible upbringing, and he wasn't sure that burden was feeling a whole lot lighter. Louisa hadn't asked lately about the nightmares and he hadn't brought it up either, but they were still dogging him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was some horrible memory lying in wait, prepared to resurface at any moment.

Martin was roused from his introspection by a breeze rustling through the trees, and he watched as a parade of leaves danced across the street. Summer would be over soon and the cold dank winter would return again.

He stood and walked back to the hospital, winding his way through the long corridors to the radiology department. Louisa was just finishing up and they went together to meet with the consultant about the test results. Martin was pleased, but not surprised with the good news. Her clavicle had healed and Martin's repair to her AVM looked good as well.

They continued on to their appointment across the street, and after dispensing with the usual greetings, they now sat in their familiar positions opposite Dr. Newell.

The therapist rifled through the patient notes in front of him before turning his attention to Louisa.

"Mrs. Ellingham, I would like to start our session out today by having you tell me a bit about your parent's marriage. You described your mother last week as having been quite controlling and critical of your father. Do you think that was a key factor in their eventual divorce, or were there other driving factors as well?"

Louisa leaned forward, tapping her fingertips together and biting her lower lip. "I think it was a factor, but I can remember watching a disagreement between them once, not understanding why these two grown up people couldn't figure out that a lot of their problems stemmed from selfishness. I don't know what they were fighting about, but from my child's perspective it looked like the disagreements I would see on the playground at the school. Two children wanting their own way, oblivious to the needs of the other."

"So you think that selfishness was the key factor?"

Louisa glanced over at Martin, "Um, I'm not sure about that. Mum had a tendency to run off when the going got tough and I think that made Dad feel insecure in the relationship. Louisa fidgeted, twirling a bit of hair around her finger. Dad was certainly not innocent in all of it... he's not the most industrious person and tended to spend his time looking for ways to make an easy living, usually with some kind of questionable money making scheme. And mum had a wandering eye... which I guess probably didn't make Dad feel any more secure either."

The therapist rocked back in his chair, "We discussed last week, your concern about being too controlling and critical of Martin... that you feel that may be something you learned from your mother. Do you see any of your parents other habits creeping into your own marriage?"

Louisa felt the tears she'd been struggling to contain begin to escape and fall to her cheeks, "I run... instead of facing our difficulties, I run off. I've given that a lot of thought lately, and I can see now what it's done to Martin's sense of security in our marriage. I'm so afraid that it won't be possible for me to win back his trust."

Louisa was allowing the tears to flow freely now, and Martin reached in his back pocket to pull out his handkerchief.

"Louisa, I told you that you have as many chances as you need." Martin looked anxiously at his wife, unsure of what was upsetting her.

"But Martin, you're not happy. I think you're afraid to let yourself be happy because you don't trust that I'm not going to leave you again... take that happiness away. And if you can't ever trust me... you can't ever be happy."

Dr. Newell directed his gaze at Martin, "I think you married a very astute woman. Louisa, I want to assure you that your tendency for flight has only been one factor in Martin's difficulties with trust and happiness."

The man took in a deep breath of air and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk. "Martin, did you ever feel happiness as a child?"

Martin squirmed, he was much more comfortable when the questions were being directed at his wife.

"Some... I felt happy when I spent time at my Aunt Joan's farm in the summers." Martin got up and walked over to the array of diplomas and accreditations hanging on the wall.

"And at what age did that start and end?"

"I was five the first time my parents sent me and eleven my last summer there," Martin said, walking back across the room to the window, hands folded behind his back.

"Were you no longer enjoying going to the farm, or why did the visits stop?"

"Dad told me Auntie Joan didn't have the time or energy for me anymore," Martin said, a hint of disgust in his voice.

Dr. Newell came to take his place on the desk corner, "Do you think that was the real reason?"

"I trusted that Dad was being truthful, so yes, I thought that was the reason for many years... until I found out a couple of years ago that it was because my parents had discovered Joan was having an affair. Joan gave up the man she loved in hopes that my father would change his mind, but..." Martin stood, eyes closed.

"But as a child, you were led to believe that the one person in your life who loved and cared for you had decided you were too much trouble to have around anymore."

"Mm." Martin turned and walked back to sit down.

"I believe that a healthy marriage requires a healthy dose of trust, so let's see what we can do to help you to feel more confident in the permanence of your relationship with Louisa."

"Louisa, problems are inevitable in every marriage and there's no reason to fear them. I'd like to work with you on developing some strategies to use when you feel that compulsion to run away from the problems between you and Martin. Over the course of the next five days, I'd like you to write a brief synopsis of each of these flight events. Tell me why you ran... what purpose it served. Then, I would like you to think of another way that you could have handled each situation and write that down for me. Finally, write down what you think the outcome would be with the new scenario. I want you to come up with some alternatives to how you've handle problems in the past so that you'll have better ways of dealing with them in the future... ways that will be helpful to you and won't be harmful to Martin's sense of security.

Martin, how are you doing on the assignment I gave you on Wednesday, making any progress?

Looking chagrined, Martin glanced of at his wife. "I ah... had been working on a list. I actually started it several years ago. Louisa was unhappy when I told her about it the other night... I'm not sure why. It's something that I've done throughout my life and I've found it helps me to focus on fixing the flaws in my character."

Dr. Newell looked back and forth between the two Ellinghams, "Well, you've piqued my interest now. Could one of you explain this list to me?"

Louisa shifted nervously before speaking, "Several years ago, I stupidly told Martin that there were twenty things about him that were crap, but that if he were a stick of stone he'd be Martin Ellingham through and through. I did mean that last part. Martin is the strongest person I've ever known and his character... honesty, dependability... it's unshakable. It's the first part that I regret, because Martin confessed to me the other night that he keeps a 'crap list'... a list of weaknesses... negatives that he thinks he needs to correct. It upsets me because it reinforces the negative view that he has of himself and does nothing positive in my opinion."

Dr. Newell pivoted in Martin's direction, "Did this list result in a row?"

Martin blew out a long breath of air through his nose, "Of course not! Louisa made me give her the list, scribbled out most of it, then she handed it back to me and told me to come up with positive ways to address what she considered to be the truly legitimate problems. That was the end of it."

The therapist sat grinning broadly at Louisa. "I must say Louisa, you seem to know how to handle your husband. And with that, Dr. Newell wrapped up their session.

"Um, do you think we could stop for a bite to eat before heading home?" Louisa asked as Martin was backing out of the parking space.

"Oh, Louisa... I'm tired and would really rather just go home."

"Well, we do have something to celebrate," Louisa said, raising her now sling-free arm.

Martin scowled at the windscreen before Louisa added, "It would be my treat... although I don't have a lot of cash with me... I'd have to pay you in full when we get home tonight," she said coyly, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

Martin shot an embarrassed glance in his wife's direction before answering with his standard, "Yes."

Louisa gave him an impish smile. "Dr. Newell's right... I _do_ know how to handle my husband."


	34. Chapter 34

Dear Readers,

I didn't really intend to provide you all with an actual list of why Martin deserves Louisa, but I couldn't disappoint you so here it is in letter form. Hope I haven't let you down!

* * *

><p>Martin awoke Saturday to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. In Cornwall though, clouds and rain could break into sunshine in moments it seemed, which meant that much flexibility was required when making plans. <em>Hmm,<em> he thought, _maybe Bert's 'go-with-the-flow' approach to life had some merit after all._

Martin lay on his back, thinking about the 'payment in full' that he had received from Louisa the night before. He gazed at his wife, deciding that he liked this new form of currency. Rolling onto his side, he reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out the sheet of paper that Louisa had left for him to find by the bathroom sink. He laid back down to read Louisa's words for the fifth time in two days.

_ "Reasons Why Martin Ellingham Deserves Louisa Ellingham"_

_My Dear Martin,_

_You have told me that you don't think you deserve me. I don't know if I can convince you otherwise, but I'm going to try my very best because I can't bear it if you continue to share a life with me while under that delusion._

_You have been so terribly cheated, Martin. Cheated out of the love and caring that you should have had from your parents, out of a carefree childhood, out of the joy of having a family to share special occasions with, and a mother and father who would praise your many achievements. No child should ever have to grow up in such an emotionally starved environment, and few who do have the strength of character to grow into successful adults. But you Martin, pushed through childhood undeterred. You had a dream for your life... to save the lives of others. What a noble calling. You dedicated yourself to your studies and earned your stripes through hard work and determination._

_I know that this chosen career path has taken an emotional toll. You worked so hard to attain the level you did in surgical medicine. I will never understand why fate once again intervened to steal away something of which you were so deserving. And still you persevered. You have committed the last six years of your life to watching over the health of the people in this village, despite the fact that they have often been unappreciative. You are so dedicated to the work that you do... to the people to whom you have a duty of care. You have shown yourself to be honorable, trustworthy, reliable and even heroic, doing whatever is necessary to safeguard your patients._

_My childhood woes don't even begin to compare to what you endured my dear husband, but the failures of my parents have made me insecure and defensive. Martin, you are the man that I need in my life. I couldn't possibly feel more sure of my decision to marry you. James and I can count on you to be there for us whenever we need you, to keep us safe, to provide for our needs, and to always love us. You have proven yourself to be an exemplary father... kind, caring, patient, protective and loving beyond compare. You will give James the life that you never had. I couldn't want more for our little boy._

_And, you my dear Martin, are the man that I want to share my bed with. I know you recoil at the sound of his name, and suffice it to say, you know to whom I am referring, so I will only tell you that when I spent time with him, my thoughts continually turned to you. I would see you in the village and I wanted to shake him from my arm and run to you. You are the only man who has ever visited me in my dreams, Martin... you stir my senses. I could never desire anyone else._

_Life owes you so much, and I feel very fortunate that I can be a small part of the compensation due you, my extraordinary man._

_All my love,_

_Louisa_

Martin's stirrings had woken Louisa, and she lay watching him surreptitiously while he read her letter. He hadn't mentioned it to her so she didn't know if it had achieved the desired effect. She saw the happiness in his eyes, and the just perceptible upturn of the corners of his mouth. Yes, the objective had indeed been met. She closed her eyes again picturing the look of contentment on her husband's face.

Louisa heard Martin slide his drawer shut and moved to put her arm over his chest. Brushing the hair aside from her face, he leaned over to kiss her forehead. Louisa opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Good morning, sleep well?"

"Mm Hmm, and you?"

"Very well, thank you. Um, Martin. I was wondering if you had spoken with Ruth since your appointment on Wednesday? Did you tell her about what you remembered?"

Martin shifted his gaze quickly to the ceiling, "No... I didn't tell her."

Louisa propped herself up on her elbow, "Maybe you should stop by today."

Martin closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Martin, what's wrong? Don't you want Ruth to know? I'm sure she's been worrying about you."

"Why do you say that? She wasn't worried forty-five years ago when it was all happening!"

Louisa fought the impulse to chastise her husband for being unfair to his aunt. She knew that Ruth must have been unaware of the abuse that Martin was suffering, but her husband had a lot to work through right now and she needed to allow him to do it in his own way.

"Don't you think she would have stepped in if she'd known what was going on?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "I just can't see how someone didn't know about it... why someone didn't do something."

Louisa laid her head on his shoulder and stroked his chest.

"I'm also a bit worried about how she'll react. I'm accusing her brother of child abuse... if she's not already aware that it went on... she might be angry with me for making the accusation."

Louisa wrapped her arm more securely around Martin's chest. "I really don't think she'll be angry with you, but I can certainly understand your concerns. Want me to come along when you tell her?"

Martin put his arms around his wife, holding her close to him, "If you don't mind, yes... I do."

"I can call her while you see to your patients... see if she wants to come for lunch?"

"Mmm, yes that would be good."

Martin walked through to the reception room after finishing breakfast and Morwenna handed him a stack of patient notes. It looked to be a pretty typical schedule for a Saturday morning, almost entirely made up of routine jabs for childhood diseases and a case or two of intestinal upset and cold symptoms.

Having worked quickly through the majority of his appointments, Martin's mind was no free to wander a bit. He thoughts drifted to the different memories he had of his father. He couldn't think of a single positive memory that the man had left him with when he died. Louisa was right, his father was a truly pitiful human being.

"Doc?" Morwenna's voice interrupted Martin's thoughts. "Doc... do you want me to send Mr. Townsend in yet?"

"Mmm, yes... and bring in a new patient form and any notes you can pull up on him. I didn't see anything in this stack," Martin said, returning the pile of notes to his receptionist.

Nigel Townsend had recently moved to PortWenn, replacing the now retired Mr. Creeley as the custodian at the primary school.

"I'm assuming you're here to register as a patient at this practice, Mr. Townsend?"

"I am Doc, but I've also been feelin' poorly and havin' some difficulty breathing."

Martin perked up his ears, _something a bit more challenging perhaps_, he thought.

The necessary questions were asked and the paperwork filled out for the man's registration before the doctor set to work examining his patient.

"You have an interesting history of complaints, Mr. Townsend. Can you open your mouth so that I can take a look at your throat please?"

Martin pulled out a small mirror, the sort one would see in a dentist's office, and slipped it into the man's opened mouth. Then, pulling his torch from his breast pocket, he inspected Nigel's throat. Martin pulled the mirror back out as his patient began to gag.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Townsend. I needed to see past your vocal cords."

Martin rolled back on his stool, snapping off his exam gloves and tossing them into the bin.

"You have a significant narrowing of your airway. How long have you been experiencing the breathing difficulties?"

"It's been getting worse for the last year or so. What do you mean, Doc? Narrowing of what?"

"You have a subglottic stenosis, which means that scar tissue has formed in your trachea, or windpipe if you prefer, just below your vocal cords. It's caused a narrowing that is now restricting air flow, making it difficult to breath. From your other symptoms, I suspect you may have an autoimmune disease called granulomatosis with polyangiitis, or GPA. I want to make an appointment for you with both an ENT and a rheumatologist. They'll run some tests... urinalysis and blood work... that will help determine if this is what you have. The ENT can remove the scar tissue"

Martin could see the fear and anxiety in his patient's eyes. "Mr. Townsend, I'm quite confident of my diagnosis, but they will be able to tell you conclusively once you get to Truro. If you do indeed have GPA, I think we've caught it early enough to stop the progression of the disease. It'll be treated with a course of oral steroids, usually prednisone. This can be a fatal disease if left untreated for too long, so I strongly recommend you follow through with the people in Truro. I'll make sure someone sees you within the next week."

Martin was finishing with Nigel Townsend's patient notes when Louisa stuck her head in the consulting room door.

"Ruth wants us to meet her at the farm. I've packed a lunch and we'll eat together out there. She and Al want us to see what they've been working on... will you be done soon?"

Martin looked up from his paperwork, "Yes... just give me five minutes."

The Ellinghams sat with Al Large at the old wooden farm table in the kitchen, finishing up with lunch. Ruth glanced over at her young assistant.

"What are your plans for the afternoon, Al?"

"I need to fix that squeak in the hinges on the front door, then I was thinkin' I'd put a coat of paint on the window boxes before I hang them back up. They're gettin' a bit seedy lookin', don't you think?"

"Hmm, perhaps you're right. But, you better check with me about the color first, I don't want to come back out here to find you've chosen a lovely shade of pink," she said, giving him a crooked smile.

"Well, I best be gettin' back to work," said Al as he rose from his chair. "Thank you for lunch, Louisa."

"You're welcome, Al"

Ruth watched Al until he had closed the door behind him then turned her attention to her nephew. She had noticed the tension in his face and wondered what might be bothering him.

"How did your visit with Dr. Newell go on Wednesday, Martin?"

Martin glanced over at Louisa and she gave him an encouraging nod.

"It was productive. He helped me to remember some things... it _was_ a memory."

Ruth stopped trying to chase down the piece of lettuce on her plate and looked quickly up at her nephew.

"Well, go on... do tell."

Martin worried the remains of the sandwich in his hands, "I had spilled something on the floor in Dad's study... it made him angry and he grabbed me by the arm and threw me back out of the way. He was too rough and it fractured my arm."

Ruth sat with her fork in midair, staring at her nephew.

"Are you're saying that _my_ brother broke his own son's arm?"_  
><em>

Martin felt panic begin to set in. He felt as though he were a child again, trying to tell someone about what had been happening to him, only to be chastised for spreading tales.

He stood quickly, knocking over his chair in the process. As he hurried towards the door, he ran headlong into Al, carrying an armload of paint cans. The cans scattered, the lid of one of them popping off as it hit the floor. Martin's trousers were spattered as a puddle of red paint spilled from the can.

Martin stared wildly at the spreading mess in front of him. Seeing the distress in her husband's eyes, Louisa jumped from her chair to go to him.

Ruth placed her hand on Louisa's arm. "Let him be for a minute, dear," she said softly.

Martin struggled to catch his breath, then turned and hurried out the door. Ruth followed after her nephew, catching up to him in the field near the house. He was sitting on the ground, his head in his hands.

"Care to talk about it?" she said as she joined him on the grass.

He turned his head slowly towards her, taking in a ragged breath. "Did you know about it, Aunt Ruth?"

Ruth cocked her head at her nephew, "The dream? That it was a memory... no, I didn't."

"No, the... the... what Mum and Dad did... how they were with me."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Martin," Ruth said, hoping to incite her nephew to say the word he had been trying to avoid.

"You know what I mean, Aunt Ruth," Martin said with definite annoyance in his

* * *

><p>voice. "The abuse! Alright, happy now? I said it Ruth, now tell me... did you know about it?"<p>

"Martin, I knew that your father was an idiot, and I knew that he used disciplinary measures that I thought were inappropriate... but, I did _not_ know of what you are rightly calling abuse. If either Joan or I had known about it, we would have stepped in. I do have to admit to you though that I think we both secretly harboured suspicions and we should have looked into it. My saying I'm sorry for that won't change your past, but do know Martin, I _am_ deeply sorry that I didn't trust my instincts and pursue the issue. I think Joan and I were afraid that it would only hurt you more if we couldn't prove anything."

Martin sat, staring out at the sea, "I had spilled paint... that's why Dad was upset with me."

Ruth stretched her legs out in front of her, "You know, I don't remember you having a broken arm. When did this happen?"

"When I was home for Christmas... I had just turned seven. Dad reduced the fracture himself... in my bedroom that night, then put a splint on it."

"Oh, good lord, Martin! With no anaesthesia?"

"Mmm."

Ruth paused momentarily before putting her hand on Martin's, "You know Martin... inside, when you told me about what had happened... I didn't intend for you to think that I thought you were being dishonest. It's just that I didn't know that my brother was capable of being that cruel. I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise. I will always believe you nephew... remember that," Ruth said, patting Martin's hand.


	35. Chapter 35

Martin sat on the sofa that night working on the assignment given him by Dr. Newell. Louisa had gone up to put James to bed. He listened to the nightly duet being sung by his two loves, Louisa singing the melodious lullaby and James joining in with a harmony of baby gurgles and delighted giggles. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and let out a long, slow sigh of contentment, allowing the stresses of the day to wash away.

The sounds coming from James' room quieted, and soon he heard Louisa's footsteps on the stairs. Martin quickly slipped his homework into his binder and set it under his BMJ on the table in front of him. Louisa puttered in the kitchen awhile before joining him on the sofa, a cup of cocoa in hand. Martin scowled slightly and began to open his mouth to speak, but thought better of it when he saw the warning look on his wife's face.

Louisa cuddled in next to him and rested her feet against the edge of the table.

"Did you finish your assignment already?" she asked, noticing him now empty handed.

"Mm, yes. It really wasn't very hard."

"Hmm," Louisa suspected the hard part may come when Dr. Newell reviewed his list on Friday.

"Martin, today at the farm... you seemed very upset, especially about the paint that got spilled on the floor."

Martin was tired and really didn't want to start what he suspected could turn into a stressful discussion. But, he also knew that he needed to not shut Louisa out of these emotional issues that he was trying to deal with.

"I saw the paint on the floor... on my trousers... I think I had spilled paint in Dad's study. I think that's what made him so angry."

Louisa gave him one of her penetrating stares and he knew she suspected there was more to it than that. He let out a huff of air, "I don't know why it upset me the way that it did, Louisa. I just felt a desperation and seemed to be frozen in place... I'm not sure why, though. Maybe just memories of the feelings that I experienced when it happened."

"Did Ruth have any ideas?"

"I'm not sure that she saw through me the way that you did. As far as I could tell, she thought I was upset due to the way she had reacted when I told her about what Dad had done. I thought she was questioning my truthfulness. She was surprised that her brother could be that way with me, but she did believe me. We talked about what she and Joan knew... or rather didn't know, as it turns out. They had their suspicions, but I really don't think that they were aware of what was going on."

Louisa leaned back against Martin's shoulder, "Are you tired... ready for bed."

"Mm hmm. It's been a long day."

Louisa stood and held out her hand to Martin, "Well, let's go then, husband."

Martin drifted off to sleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow. Louisa stayed up to work on her assignment from the therapist. Her gaze shifted over later to her husband, asleep beside her. She would never cease to be amazed by how different he looked when he was free of the worries and frustrations of life. Leaning over, she kissed him and turned out the light.

Life in the Ellingham household returned to the more chaotic school schedule on Monday morning. Poppy arrived promptly at eight a.m., giving Louisa ample opportunity to go over last minute instructions about James' routine.

"Now if you have questions or concerns, Martin will be down the hall. I'm sure you'll do just fine though, Poppy. I'm so glad that we have you helping us out... and that James seems so fond of you! I'm going to run upstairs to say goodbye to Martin, and then I'll be back to say goodbye to the two of you," she said stroking James' cheek as he sat in Poppy's arms.

Louisa found her husband in the bathroom, just finishing up with shaving. She reached up and caressed his face. She loved the clean scent of him and the smoothness of his freshly shaved skin.

"Poppy is here and I've gone over the last minute instructions with her. I told her she could come see you if she has any questions or concerns."

"I'll likely be with patients, Louisa. She'll need to check in with Morwenna first... unless it's an emergency of course."

"I'll remind her of that," she said, pausing to look into Martin's eyes. "I'll miss you today."

"Mm, me too," he said before kissing her goodbye.

Louisa had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard Martin's voice, "Louisa!"

She stepped back into the bedroom to see Martin standing in the bathroom doorway toothbrush in hand, "Yes, Martin?"

Martin glanced down at the floor before looking up and making eye contact with her, "Good luck today... and... I love you."

Louisa walked over and embraced her husband, "I love you too, Martin Ellingham."

The first week back at the school went very smoothly, both at work and at home. Poppy's presence had made a world of difference for Martin as well as Louisa. Martin had gotten on well with Michael and he was always very punctual, but some of his eccentric ways made Louisa a bit uncomfortable about leaving James, and Martin was growing weary of the constant distraction that Morwenna seemed to be to him.

With Louisa busy with her responsibilities at work and planning for the school year kick off celebration, and Martin taking over with more of the duties involved in raising a baby, the week seemed to pass very quickly.

Wednesday brought with it their couples session with Dr. Newell and Louisa now found herself the centre of the therapist's attention.

"Louisa, on Friday I asked you to do some reflecting on the times that you have left Martin. How did that go?"

"Well, I've written some things down here," she said, handing Dr. Newell a piece of paper. "Just my chicken scratches... not like my husband's neatly type-written spread sheets." She gave Martin a quick glance and a teasing smile.

Dr. Newell scanned over what she had down on the paper before handing it back across the desk.

"Have you discussed any of this with Martin?"

"No, it's just my own thoughts."

The therapist rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "Why don't we start at the beginning then."

"Well, the first time I left him... I didn't actually leave him. I pushed him out... of the taxi we'd taken together. I was upset because I had kissed him and he pointed out that my breath was less than fresh, let's say. One of my students had suffered a ruptured spleen and I went in the ambulance with Martin and Peter... that's the name of my student. Martin had been... heroic in saving the boys life. I was already attracted to Martin, but I was now in awe of him... and I couldn't resist... I grabbed him and kissed him in the taxi. And then he went off on this whole thing about bad breath and the medical problems that can cause it. I felt humiliated, so I told the driver to stop and told Martin to get out."

"And, did that result in the outcome you were hoping for?"

Louisa looked back at Dr. Newell, abashed, "Well, Martin avoided me for the next week. We ran into each other one day and Martin started trying to explain himself... I was still mad and started lecturing him about his inexcusable behaviour. I guess the way I handled things cut off communication between us. I thought about it... if I had it to do all over again... I guess I might still throw him out of the taxi, but I would have given him a chance to explain himself later."

"And in what way would throwing him out help the situation?"

"I guess it would make me feel better momentarily, but it wouldn't solve anything, would it? I should have talked it through with him then and there, shouldn't I?"

"Mm hmm. And the next time you left?" Dr. Newell asked, twirling his pen in his fingers.

"That was after our wedding... or the wedding that we called off. I moved to London."

"Did Martin try to persuade you to stay?"

Louisa crossed her legs and sat, jiggling her foot nervously. "I didn't tell him I was leaving. I found after I arrived in London that I was pregnant. I moved back to PortWenn when I was in my sixth month. I surprised Martin by showing up at his door with my pregnant belly... you know, I think we can stop with this. I understand that I would rather run than to try to work things through. I also understand that it doesn't work out well for me... for Martin."

"Louisa, you are married to a naturally taciturn man. To get Martin to talk and open up to you must be a bit of a challenge I would think."

"Yes, although he's been making a real effort lately... I've definitely seen improvement," she said patting Martin on the knee.

"Perhaps you can take some credit for that. Do you think you may be making an extra effort to allow Martin time to answer your questions?"

"Yes, I'm sure that I've been much more aware of that lately."

Dr. Newell rolled his chair forward, "Louisa, men just tend to need a bit more time than women to give a response. The next time you and Martin have a row, I want you to try to think about what the important issue really is. Then I want you to address it, as briefly as possible... we don't really need as much filler as women do, then give Martin a day to think things over. I find it very difficult to think about what I'm actually feeling or to sort out my thoughts without a bit of space to think in. You of course don't want to let problems brew, but try not to rush to a solution either."

"Martin thinks that I'm a pretty patient person, and I am with children, but I can be very impatient with him and push too hard."

Dr. Newell came around and sat on the front of his desk, "I'd like to discuss the events of the sport's day just a bit, because I think it was a good example of the communication difficulties the two of you struggle with. Louisa, you said that Martin had not remembered your asking him to help out. I suspect, given Martin's usual focus and intellect that the depression played a role in that. It does affect the memory. But, if you could replay that scenario, what changes would you make to how you handled things?"

"Well, I know that sometimes I ask him to choose between the duty that he has to his patients and to helping me. So, I guess if I could go back in time, I would have assured him that someone else would be available to hand out the medals. I think a lot of improving communication on my end is being aware, not letting myself get overly wrapped up in what I want. They say you should choose your battles and lately... I've been insisting on things from Martin that in hindsight weren't important."

"Can you give me some examples?" Dr. Newell said, leaning back on his hands.

"There was a playgroup session for babies that our childminder couldn't take James to. I insisted that Martin take him over his lunch hour. James wouldn't have missed it at all. I asked Martin if he wanted our son to grow up to be shy and... Martin took James, but I know it was an awkward, miserable experience for him. Martin does need to push himself outside of his comfort zone. Participate more socially. But Millie's Playgroup is probably not necessary."

"Martin, what went through your mind when Louisa asked if you wanted James to grow up to be shy?"

"I think she was asking if I wanted him to grow up to be like me... and the obvious answer would be no," Martin said as he rubbed his palm with his thumb. "I do worry about that Louisa... I worry about it a lot. I worry about whether even being around me is good for James. I worry about whether I could start behaving like my father. That thought terrifies me. These are things that I think about when I can't sleep at night."

Louisa reached for her husband's hand but it went unnoticed. Martin's hand was firmly planted on his thigh.

Dr. Newell hopped down off of his desk, "Martin, let's pick that subject up again on Friday... I think it's worth exploring."

Louisa reached over for Martin's hand on the drive home, this time he took her hand in his.

"Martin, I'm sorry that I worded my comment about not wanting James to be shy in such a negative manner. I should have said that I wanted him to be comfortable in social situations. James is shy, that's in his makeup, but there are things that we can do to help him to have more confidence when he's around other people. That's what I should have said... I'm sorry."

Martin shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss his hurt feelings. "Mm, it's fine. I do see your point."

"Um, I was wondering... how are you doing with your amended crap list?"

Martin breathed out a heavy sigh, "I could use some help with that. Can you recommend anyone?"

Louisa placed a kiss on the back of his hand, "I think I might be available tonight."


	36. Chapter 36

After they had crawled into bed that night, Louisa asked her husband for his 'crap list'.

"Okay, Martin. Let's address the social ineptitude . First of all, I don't think you're as inept as you think you are. It's just that you don't know how to relate to people of more... um, let's say average intelligence," Louisa said as she reviewed her husbands whittled down 'crap list'. "Maybe, if you learned a bit more about people you could find something that you have in common. Take Joe Penhale for example, do you know where he grew up, what he enjoys doing when he's not working?"

Martin gave his wife a serious scowl, "First of all, I think you're being rather generous in your assessment of Penhale's intelligence. And, I happen to have it on good authority that he's on duty 24/7, which would leave him no time at all for any sort of an outside interest."

"Alright, perhaps Joe wasn't the best example. Al... Al Large... how about him? You could make an effort to get to know him," Louisa nodded enthusiastically.

"Mm, possibly."

"Okay, so write that down, Martin. _Make an effort to get to know Al Large_. "

"Yes," he said, doing as he was told.

Louisa sighed heavily, "Rude... okay... first of all, most of the time you're not being rude, just brutally honest. We can work with that, can't we?" she, said nodding her head vigorously.

"I can't be dishonest, Louisa," Martin said, his brow furrowed.

"No, and I don't want you to be... but maybe it's better to just not say anything at all sometimes. For instance, if you're going to tell a patient they're an idiot... what purpose does that serve?"

Martin exhaled loudly, "This gets very confusing. How do I know when I should try to find something to say, and when to try to keep my mouth shut?"

"Martin, if you're going to say something that could offend someone, it's probably best to stay quiet. But if staying quiet would make the other person uncomfortable, then it would be best to try to find something to talk to them about. This is all going to take practice."

Louise could see her husband was feeling disheartened. "Martin, I'll help you. Maybe we could practice with Ruth."

"Oh, gawd," Martin said curling his lip.

Louisa sighed, "Alright, next one... unromantic. What could you do to make some positive changes in that area?"

"Louisa, you'd be the first to say... and you were by the way... that I'm hardly Mr. Hearts and Flowers."

"Mm hmm. There's a clue for you in your last sentence."

She watched as inspiration flashed in his eyes, "Flowers! I could bring you flowers."

"Very good, Martin. Now, what about the 'hearts' part?"

The furrow deepened again in Martin's brow as he searched his brain for anything related to hearts. Forcing out the mental images from anatomy and cardiology textbooks, Martin saw valentines cards and boxes of candy. "Chocolates?" he asked, hesitantly.

"No Martin... although that would be nice too. What about sharing what's in your heart with me?"

"Mm, I see. All that rub..."

"Martin!" Louisa took a deep breath before continuing, "It's not rubbish if it's something you genuinely feel... and I would like to hear you say it, if you're feeling it. Hmm?"

"Yes."

Louisa leaned over and kissed him on the nose, "I tell you what, let's just tackle those three for now. You don't have to work on everything at once, right?"

"Hmm. May I go to sleep now or do I have other problems we need to work out tonight?"

"I think we're done," she said, rearranging her pillow. "I'm sorry Martin, this must make you feel like one of your clocks. Broken parts being tossed aside and new ones forced to fit in."

Martin rolled over and put his arm around his wife, "Is that what I am... broken? How could I have worked my way up to Chief of Vascular Surgery and still be so ignorant of the most basic human communication skills, Louisa?"

"I'm not sure I have an answer for you... Dr. Newell might be a better one to ask. But Martin, please don't worry about this too much. It will come, you just need practice."

"Mm."

"And, you're not broken. You just need a few adjustments."

"Well, be careful, my mainspring could break and that can be quite dangerous."

Louisa cocked her head at her husband, "What's your mainspring?"

"It's a coiled up strip of metal inside a clock. When you wind a clock you're tightening that metal coil... there's a great deal of energy stored in the coil and if it breaks, a lot of damage can be done to the clock repairer's fingers."

"Hmm," Louisa purred, "Wouldn't want all that energy to be release at once then... is that what you're saying?"

"Something like that... goodnight Louisa... love you."

* * *

><p>Martin left a bit early on Friday for his appointment and meeting in Truro. He wanted to stop to see Louisa before he headed out of town. When he arrived at the school he found his wife setting up tables in the gymnasium.<p>

"Martin, what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to stop by before I left for Truro... um, I wanted to tell you good luck tonight."

"Thank you, Martin! That's very sweet of you. I hope all goes well for you and Chris tonight, too. It'll be difficult, if not impossible for the people of Cornwall to support the air ambulance entirely through fundraising."

"Mm. I better get going or I'm going to be late for my four o'clock appointment." Martin fidgeted, fiddling with a roll of tape laying on the table next to him. "Uh, I also wanted to stop to say..." he hesitated, glancing quickly around him. "I wanted to say, I love you."

Louisa could see the color rise in her husband's cheeks and she reached up to give him a quick kiss.

"I'll do that properly when you get home."

"I'll look forward to it," Martin said, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

It was a windy and drizzly day for the drive to Truro, seeming to exacerbate the anxiousness that Martin was feeling about both his session with Dr. Newell, and the NHS meeting later.

Dr. Newell opened their session by re-addressing Martin's concerns that his own issues could negatively affect his son.

"Martin, without getting into the whole nature/nurture controversy, I would just like to stress that I truly believe that your struggles stem almost entirely from your abysmal upbringing. I'm sure that you came into this world with a shy and introverted personality, and would have benefited greatly from having parents who were loving, encouraging, and gentle with their approach to discipline. Unfortunately, that didn't happen for you, quite the opposite I'm afraid. From what you and your wife have told me, James is also rather shy and introverted. You and Louisa seem to be exactly the sort of parents that James needs to grow up happy and healthy. You have the benefit of hindsight here, Martin. You'll have a much better understanding of how James will react to any disciplinary measures that you and Louisa will need to take, and you will also better understand how James sees the world. Louisa will need your guidance in fact... she won't be able to relate to your son the way you will. I can assure you Martin, that your presence in James' life can only be beneficial.

Now, as to your concerns about becoming like your father, have you struggled with staying in control of your anger when dealing with James?"

"No, not at all. I find James calms me. Um... I worry about what will happen to our relationship when he becomes aware of all my problems. That he'll be embarrassed by me... wish he had a different father."

Dr. Newell came around to sit on his usual perch at the end of the desk. "I hate to have to tell you this, but most children do have times that they wish for different parents. We can't always make our children happy. I'm sure you've had children in your surgery whose parents have tried to do just that, and they've probably left a trail of destruction in their wake."

Air hissed from Martin's nose as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I understand all of that, but... I don't want to make life more difficult for my son by being who I am... by his being associated with me. Right now, James likes to be with me, but I'm afraid that when he gets older... when he discovers my... idiosyncrasies..."

"That he won't want you anymore? That you'll be discarded?"

Martin rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs, "James is the first person who's liked me the way I am, who hasn't criticised me for not being like everyone else. He's the first person who I feel really comfortable with."

"Martin, there is every chance that James will feel the same way about you. In fact I think that's the more likely scenario."

Martin felt a familiar stinging in his eyes. He really had not considered that possibility.

The therapist returned to his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. "I asked you last week to make several lists of adjectives. How did that go?"

"Fine, it didn't seem too complicated." Martin pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Dr. Newell.

After scanning the lists, he looked up at his patient, "Of all of the things you have listed here, which would you say is the most important to you?"

"Social confidence," Martin quickly answered. "I think that if I felt more confident in social situations it would make it easier for me to be polite, enjoy myself, and I'd probably even like people more."

The doctor smiled at his patient, "I find it really interesting that you have 'liking people' on the list of adjectives describing the man that _you'd_ like to be, but that you think James and Louisa want you to be well-liked. That suggests to me that maybe how you see yourself is what's important to you, but that you think how others see you is what's important to your wife and son. That you aren't as concerned with how others see you as you think your wife and son are."

Martin shook his head and gave Dr. Newell a questioning look. "I don't understand where you're going with this."

The doctor picked up his pen, clicking it in and out, "What I'm suggesting is that maybe we need to discuss where your motivation for making changes is coming from. It's fine to want your family to be happy with the man you are, but it's more important that _you_ are happy with the man you are. And, I think that you should ask Louisa about how concerned she is with how others perceive you. It might prove to be enlightening.

Martin left Dr. Newell's office thinking about the conversation he would need to have with Louisa when he got home.


	37. Chapter 37

Martin walked from Dr. Newell's building to the hospital next door. He found Chris in his office going over statistics and operating costs for the Cornwall ambulance system.

"Mart! Good to see you."

Martin laid his binder down on Chris' desk and took a seat. Chris put down the pen in his hand and scrutinised his friend.

"You've lost a bit of weight mate, all okay?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "I've just been a bit preoccupied with some personal things... not much appetite... you know."

Chris cocked his head at his friend, "No I don't know, care to enlighten me?"

"I've, ah... been seeing a therapist. Just trying to work through some things from my past."

Chris tried not to show his surprise at his friends openness, "About your parents?"

"Mm hmm."

"How's it going"

Martin rubbed at a fingernail, trying to avoid eye contact with Chris. "It's been hard... I've remembered some things that I would just as soon forget. But, I need to deal with it if I want Louisa to stay with me."

"Well, I admire you. You know Mart, you really did get stuck with some crap parents."

"Mm, I'm becoming aware of that."

Martin cleared his throat and got up out of his chair, "How do you think we'll fare with this NHS committee tonight?"

"I just really can't say. Money's tight and they have to cut somewhere, I just hope it doesn't have to be at the expense of the citizens of Cornwall. I need you to make a pretty convincing argument that the air ambulance is absolutely vital to the coastal communities, Martin... that any cuts right now could put lives at risk."

"I'll do my best."

Chris stood up and walked towards the door, "Let's go and see if they have anything decent to eat in the canteen."

The meeting started promptly at half six, the committee being made up of what Martin deemed to be the usual conglomeration of pencil pushing bureaucrats and puffed up time wasters in suits. He was itching to get on the road and get home to his family, but the meeting with the NHS people dragged on. He had presented his arguments to the committee, stressing his point the best he could, but Martin wasn't getting the feeling that they were appreciating the patient transport problems that were unique to Cornwall; the isolated moors and coastal areas in particular. When all the other presenters had pleaded their cases, Chris shepherded everyone out to the hall where Royal Cornwall's spokesperson would begin a tour of the hospital, focusing on the services provided and concluding with an assemblage in the Emergency Department.

They were just beginning to move the group down the hall when Chris pulled Martin aside, "Why don't you slip out and head on home, Mart. It'll be late by the time you get back, even if you leave now. This thing could go on awhile... you've done what I needed you to."

"Thanks, Chris. I'm not sure I helped our case tonight... sorry about that."

Chris shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not sure anyone could persuade this group any differently. I think they've already made up their minds. You get on home to that lovely wife of yours and I'll give you a call as soon as I hear of a decision on this." Chris gave Martin a pat on the back.

"Thanks, Chris... good luck."

Martin groaned when he looked at the clock in his car and saw that it was already after eight o'clock. No time with his wife and son tonight.

Traffic was light on the A-390 and Martin made good time. His thoughts drifted to Louisa and James. James would be sound asleep in bed by now and Louisa was probably curled up on the sofa with whatever book she happened to be reading at the moment. He thought about how wonderful her body felt curled up against his, and remembered her promise of a proper kiss when he got home tonight.

Martin was coming up on Wadebridge, he would be home in another ten minutes. As he approached the bridge over the River Camel, the headlights from a vehicle coming around the curve on the other side of the span shone in his eyes, blinding him momentarily. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, he saw a large, oncoming transport lorry drift into his lane. He hit the brake, but there were guardrails on either side of him and no way to avoid colliding with the other vehicle. Martin didn't have time to brace himself for what was coming. There was another flash from the lorrie's headlights before a tremendous jolt of energy coursed through his body. Then nothing... it was perfectly quiet... perfectly dark.

The tour back at Royal Cornwall was concluding with a stop at the Emergency Department. Their arrival was well timed, as the group was able to look on as a call came in requesting an air ambulance. There had been an auto/lorry accident near Wadebridge with two casualties, one critical.

Chris explained to the committee chair that Wadebridge did have its own ambulance, but it took a good forty-five minutes to get a patient to Royal Cornwall by ground ambulance. With critical cases such as this, the patient may not survive transport.

The group waited, listening in on the conversation between the ground unit on scene and the dispatch unit at NewQuay, where the air ambulance was based.

Dispatch: The air crew's been made aware of the situation and should arrive at your location in approximately fifteen minutes. Do you have vitals for us at this time?

Wadebridge Paramedic: We're working on extricating the victim from the vehicle, but we'll get those numbers to you as soon as we have them. The victim is haemorrahaging from both an injury to the upper left thigh and the lower right arm. His arm is pinned between the door of the vehicle and the door frame. We suspect a fractured right femur as well as fractures to the lower legs.

Dispatch: Keep us informed of any further information or any changes to the situation. They'll be expecting you at Royal Cornwall in about thirty minutes.

_An unknown amount of time elapsed before awareness began to return to Martin. He could hear voices, and there were lights... lights shining on him, in his face. He squinted and tried to put his hand up to shade his eyes but he couldn't move his arm. He tried harder and searing pain shot up his arm and through his shoulder. He heard the voices again, this time louder and clearer._

_"Try to stay still, mate! We're going to get you out, but you need to stay still."_

_Martin was confused. He didn't recognise the voice and he didn't know what was happening to him._

_He saw someone moving to the left of him... a shadowy figure._

_"Sir, you've been in an accident, try not to move. We're going to take care of you"_

_Martin tried to respond to the shadowy figure but he found himself gasping for air. He could hear someone moaning._

_The light was getting brighter and the images clearer, and Martin could now make out the face of a man beside him, illuminated by a pulsating light._

_"Sir, I'm a paramedic...I'm here to help you. Can you hear me?"_

_Martin tried to nod his head but his thoughts were now clouded by a crushing pain coursing throughout his body._

_He could hear more voices now... conversation. Then he heard the paramedic's voice again, "Sir, are you Martin Ellingham? The police officer ran the tags on your vehicle and it's registered to Martin Ellingham... is that your name?_

_Martin forced himself to nod his head. He tried to look at the paramedic but he couldn't get his eyes to focus._

The group at Royal Cornwall stood in the Emergency Department, waiting to hear further word of the patient being prepared for transfer. The hospital spokesperson explained that once the victim was onboard the air ambulance, a prehospital evaluation would be conducted and Royal Cornwall would get more complete information, which would be needed to prepare for the incoming patient.

Wadebridge Paramedic: Dispatch, we have some preliminary vitals for you.

Dispatch: Go ahead Wadebridge

Wadebridge Paramedic: "B.P. is 100/75... heart rate is 95. The patient is cool and clammy and in severe pain... we're getting a drip going now and will administer fentanyl.

Dispatch: Thank you Wadebridge. Let us know when the transfer to the heli has been made.

Wadebridge Paramedic: Right-O... Um, I've just been informed that the critical victim has been identified as Martin Ellingham, the G.P. over in PortWenn. Thought you might want a heads up on that.

Dispatch: ...Thank you Wadebridge... We'll pass that information on to Royal Cornwall.

Chris felt the blood rush from his head when he heard the paramedic's words. He immediately began to run through the likely scenario when Martin was brought in. The arm injury sounded severe and they would be needing a vascular specialist on hand. Royal Cornwall's man was good, but not a surgeon with the experience or skills that Martin would likely be needing.

Chris put in a call to Robert Dashwood, a colleague of Martin's, now at Imperial Hospital in London. Robert and an orthopedic specialist would be flying down from London and planned to arrive in approximately four hours.

Chris then called the police constable in PortWenn, informing him of what had happened and asking that he find someone to drive Louisa to Truro. The next call he would need to make would be to Louisa, and Chris was dreading that task.

_"Dr. Ellingham, I'm Grant Foster, one of the paramedics out of Wadebridge. The air ambulance should be here in about fifteen minutes. We're going to get a drip started and give you something to make you more comfortable. You're pretty tangled up in the wreckage so we're going to need to cut the vehicle apart. There'll be some noise, but we're going to get you out, Doc."_

_Martin found the light growing dimmer again and sounds becoming muffled. There was a smell though... a familiar smell. He could feel his trousers growing wet. He couldn't make sense of what was happening. It was dark and cramped, he couldn't move his legs and his right arm was fixed in an excruciating position. Warmth and wetness spread across his thighs, and a feeling of fear and humiliation overcame him, bringing him back to consciousness. There was that smell again, overwhelming him and making him nauseous. He couldn't control the urge to vomit any longer._

_Martin began to cough, choking on his own vomited matter. He struggled to breathe and his surroundings became fuzzy once again before turning to inky blackness. He was back in theater, a body laid out and prepped in front of him. The whine of the bone saw piercing his ears, the smell of blood permeating his senses. The smell of blood... that was the smell!_

_Martin was brought back to the light and the present by the sound of Grant Foster's voice. " Doc, I'm going to cover you with a blanket now while we cut you out of here. How's the pain... any better?" Martin couldn't answer him, he was trapped in his own agony._

_The paramedics were working frantically to get Martin out of the vehicle. He was haemorrhaging from both his right arm and left leg and they could get to neither injury to stanch the flow of blood._

_He listened to the paramedics shouting directives over the din of the machinery being used to free him. He fought to stay awake, but he could feel life slipping away from him._

,


	38. Chapter 38

_The paramedics were working frantically to get Martin out of the car. He was haemorrhaging from both his right arm and left leg and they could get to neither injury to staunch the flow of blood._

_He listened to the paramedics shouting directives over the din of the machinery being used to free him. He fought to stay awake, but he could feel the life slipping away from him._

_"Okay, he's free of the vehicle!" shouted one of the ground medics._

_"Someone watch his arm... we'll take him out this way!"_

_Martin felt unbearable pain as his body was pulled from of the wreckage. The moans he heard earlier were now replaced by screams, and he realised it was the sound of his own voice. The pain was so intense that it threatened to return him to oblivion, and for a moment Martin wished he would die._

__Then an image of his beautiful wife and son appeared in his mind. He didn't want to leave them. His parent's had cheated him out of the love that he longed for during his first fifty years on Earth and he wasn't going to allow anything to cheat him out of James and Louisa's love now. He didn't want to die.__

Chris tried calling the surgery number but got the answer phone message. He was able to find Ruth's phone number online, and she passed on the information about Louisa's whereabouts. Ruth was concerned. Martin's friend hadn't said why he needed to get in touch with Louisa, but she detected something in his voice that made her worry.

Louisa was on stage, introducing this year's teachers, when Pippa Woodley hurried over to tell her that she needed to take an emergency call in her office. "Just go, Louisa. I'll finish up here."

Louisa ran down the hallway, trying not to fear the worst. She grabbed at the phone on her desk, "Hello, this is Louisa Ellingham."

"Louisa, this is Chris Parsons. Um... I'm calling to tell you that Martin was in an accident on his way home tonight."

"What do you mean Chris, was he hurt?"

"Yes... they haven't brought him in yet, but you should be here. I took the liberty of calling your constable and he'll see to transportation for you. I was assuming you would be at home so there may even be someone waiting for you when you get back to the surgery."

"But Chris, is he alright?" Louisa was trying to absorb what Chris was telling her while at the same time mentally making arrangements for James' care.

"I'll know more when they bring him in, Louisa. Right now it's important that you get here, so why don't you give me your mobile number and I'll call you the minute I have more information."

Louisa rang off, and looking up saw Joe Penhale standing in the doorway. He could tell by the stunned look on her face that Louisa had just gotten the news.

"I can run you over to Truro," said Joe. "And, I picked Ruth up and took her to your place. She sent Poppy on home and said not to worry about James, she'll stay with him. We should go though." Joe came over and took Louisa by the arm, leading her down the hall.

"Joe, did Chris tell you anything?" Louisa asked once they were on the road out of the village.

"Just that the doc was in an accident, we'll find out more when we get there." Joe reached out and squeezed Louisa's hand.

When they approached the River Camel bridge, Joe could see the flashing lights of the remaining emergency vehicles, still there taking notes and measurements for later use. He looked over at Louisa, but it didn't seem to have registered to her that this was where Martin's accident had occurred.

_Martin could just make out the movements of people around him. The roar of the helicopter's engine became a muffled hum in his ears. The medics on board scrambled to try to slow the bleeding from Martin's wounds, applying pressure to a severe laceration on his inner thigh and to the brachial artery in his upper arm. An additional I.V. was started in an effort to keep up with the body fluids that he was rapidly losing. Splints were affixed to both legs and his lower right arm._

_Martin drifted in and out of consciousness. The periods of awareness brought excruciating pain, the periods of darkness sank him into mental misery, bringing back memories from his childhood... sitting on the floor in his father's study, blood pooling on the wood under him and soaking into his clothing... his father grasping and pulling on his arm, causing horrendous pain... being forced into the cramped cupboard under the stairs. He was laying on his injured arm, with no room to move... the pain, intolerable. A warm wetness spread across his lap and with it the sure knowledge that he had yet again lost control of himself. The smell of the blood on his trousers nauseated him and he could no longer keep his stomach contents from being expelled. The pain, the smell of blood mixing with the smell of his own vomit, and the fear he was feeling made it hard to breathe. He tried not to cry... he had been told to be quiet._

Chris stood by the Emergency Department desk, waiting for further word about his friend. The committee members were transfixed by the drama playing out before them.

While concerned for Martin, Chris still had a job to do and he forced his attention back to the NHS committee he had been charged with influencing.

"The ground ambulance crew has now turned everything over to the air ambulance medics, and the transmissions from this point on will be between the staff here at Royal Cornwall and the air medics on board the helicopt..." Chris was interrupted by the voice of one of the ambulance medics.

Air medic crew leader: We have the patient on board and are now in transit. I'm calling this as a code red emergency. We've been able to slow the haemorrhaging but the patients B.P. is still falling. We have the latest vitals for you Royal Cornwall.

Royal Cornwall: Go ahead.

Air medic: B.P. is 85/68... heart rate is 105... And, we now have a body temperature... 96.3. We've wrapped the patient in a warming blanket and would like permission to start a dopamine drip.

Royal Cornwall: Yes, that's an affirmative on the dopamine. We'll be ready for you when you come in.

Air medic: We're about five minutes out.

Chris knew that Martin's vital signs indicated that he was going into hypovolaemic shock, a life threatening condition that often develops in polytrauma patients. He had told Louisa that he would call her with any news, but this was news he thought would be best delivered in person. She would be here shortly so he would fill her in when she arrived.

Louisa sat quietly next to Joe Penhale, thinking about how hard Martin had been working to change things about himself... about how difficult the last couple of months had been for him. She looked over at P.C. Penhale.

"Joe, would Chris have told me that I needed to come right away if Martin hadn't been seriously injured?"

The constable knew from experience that typically, the patient would tell hospital personnel who to contact once they had arrived at the Accident and Emergency Department. It was only if the patient's injuries were severe enough that they were unable to communicate their wishes, that either the hospital or the police authorities would track down the next of kin. Also, Joe had been told by Chris that Martin had been in an accident with a lorry, and he had seen a few of those. The occupants of a car hit by a lorry usually did not fare well.

"I don't think we should try to make guesses about what's happened, Louisa. We'll just have to wait until we get there I'm afraid. Should only be another fifteen minutes or so," he said, trying to give her a reassuring smile.


	39. Chapter 39

Dear readers,

I will do my best to post frequently over the holiday weekend, but we have family from both sides that will be here so my time will be limited. I apologise in advance if I keep you waiting.

Thank you so much for all the reviews and emails. I love to get the feedback and to know you're enjoying the story. Hope you don't hate for what I've done to the doc! Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate it!

* * *

><p>As soon as the helicopter landed on the helipad, the air ambulance crew rushed an unconscious Martin to the hospital Emergency Department. The ED team was waiting for them and the transfer of the patient was made to Royal Cornwall's Trauma Centre.<p>

*Trauma shears were used to remove Martin's clothing before the team went to work assessing his injuries. A team member pressed down on a pressure dressing that had been placed over the laceration on Martin's thigh, adding additional dressings, one on top of the other, as the last one became blood soaked. Another team member inserted a Foley catheter, equiped with a temperature sensor to monitor both urine output and core body temperature, both important indicators when assessing the severity of shock.

"Let's get another warmed Hartmann's going in him," ordered Ed Christianson, the consultant in charge of the trauma team. We need to get his core temp up... what about haematocrit?"

"I just checked on that, it's 23%," replied a team nurse.

"Okay... let's get him started on packed cells," the consultant ordered.

When Chris heard the incoming code red announcement over the Emergency Department P.A. system, he went to the NHS committee head to excuse himself from the group.

"I hope you'll forgive me, but that's my mate in there," he said as he gestured towards the trauma centre. "I need to go. I'm sure you'll keep me informed of your decision," he added, as he backed towards the doors.

Chris stood back out of the way, watching the heroic efforts to save his friend. Martin was unrecognisable to him, his face pale and bloodied. He looked lifeless on the table, and his wounds were severe. Even from where he was standing, Chris could see bone protruding through the skin of Martin's right forearm and lower left leg. Chris glanced at his watch and realised Louisa would be arriving shortly. He pulled Ed Christianson aside and asked him for a brief rundown so that he would have some information to pass on to Martin's wife.

"He's critical... we've slowed the bleeding from the external wounds and have been pushing the warmed Hartmann's and colloids, but the vitals continue to deteriorate. We're going to take him into CT next. I'm pretty certain there are internal injuries... probably the spleen or a renal artery... could be the liver, too. I'll know more after we get some pictures. We'll get him stabilised, take him into theatre and patch him up for now, then let the guys from Imperial clean up after us when they get here. We'll start there, then do a trauma series, but as you know, with these polytrauma cases we'll probably be playing catch-up for awhile. Don't envy you having to tell Ellingham's wife." Christianson patted Chris' shoulder.

"Thanks, Ed. Um, do your best for him, okay. And... be especially careful with that arm, I keep hoping he'll get back to doing surgery again."

Chris walked down the hallway to the restrooms, ducking in long enough to collect his thoughts before going to find his friend's wife.

Joe and Louisa had arrived at the ED waiting area desk about a half hour after Martin was brought in. Having been instructed to wait until Chris came to talk to her, she now sat, growing more and more anxious about what was going on with her husband. Her stomach lurched when she looked up and saw Chris walking towards her.

Louisa didn't need to ask, the strain showing on Chris' face told her the news was not good. Not wanting to discuss the situation in the middle of a waiting room full of people, Chris led Louisa to a nearby break room and sat her down, pulling up a chair next to her before he began to talk. The tears welled in her eyes as her husband's friend began to explain Martin's condition to her.

"Martin's in the trauma centre now. He's lost a considerable amount of blood. They've slowed the external bleeding, but deteriorating vital signs suggest that he's bleeding internally. He'll be going to CT... once we have those images, we'll have a better idea as to what's going on."

Louisa sat listening, but unable to respond. The fear and worry that she had kept under control up to this point was now overtaking her. She felt as though she had been plunged into a horrible nightmare.

Chris continued on, "He has several fractures... both lower legs, the right femur and his right forearm. The left lower leg fracture and the right forearm fractures are open, meaning the bone has come through the skin. He also has a severe laceration on his left thigh."

Louisa couldn't contain her emotions any longer and she began to sob quietly. Chris jumped up to grab a box of tissues before sitting back down beside her. He slid his chair over and put an arm around her trembling shoulders. "He has an excellent team working on him, Louisa. And, I called Robert Dashwood as soon as I heard about the accident. He'll be arriving in about three hours with the top ortho surgeon in the country. Martin really couldn't be in better hands," he said as he rubbed her back reassuringly.

Louisa slowly regained her composure and was now thinking about the information that Chris had given her. "Is he going to be alright, Chris? I mean, he will be alright won't he?"

Chris hesitated, not knowing for sure how to deal with Martin Ellingham's wife. Martin was a straight shooter, but would he want him to be completely honest with Louisa?

Chris inhaled deeply, "Louisa, Martin's condition is precarious at the moment. He's in what we call hypovolaemic shock... that's very serious. Right now, they need to figure out where he's losing blood and get that taken care of."

Louisa took in a breath and straightened up in her chair. "I want to see him Chris... can I see him?"

Chris was hoping that he wouldn't hear that request. "Oh Louisa, I don't think that would be a good idea. They need room to work in there."

"But, if something should happen... I have to see him, Chris," Louisa looked at him, her eyes pleading.

"I'll see what they say Louisa, but we need to do what's in Martin's best interests... right?"

"Yes, yes... you're right. But, if I can... will you let me know?"

"Certainly, I better get back down there. I promise, I'll keep you filled in if there's any new information."

Martin had regained consciousness and as Chris approached the trauma centre doors he could hear him moaning and screaming in pain. He hurried forward to be with his friend.

"Hey Mart, it's going to be okay. You've got a great team working on you... you're going to be fine."

Martin reached for Chris' sleeve, "I want... to see Louisa! Please... I need my wife!"

"Martin, you don't want her to see you like this. Let them get you to theatre... get you stabilised and cleaned up a bit, then you can see Louisa."

Chris watched his friend. Martin looked at him with desperation in his eyes, "Chris... please... I need... her!"

Chris glanced up at Ed Christianson who gave him a quick nod of approval, "Just make it quick, they'll be ready for us in theatre in a few minutes."

Louisa hurried over when she saw Chris appear at the ED doors. "Martin's asking for you. They're almost ready for him in theatre so this will have to be quick. And, Louisa... Martin's very anxious and distressed right now... it's a symptom of hypovolaemia. Do what you can to ease his fears."

Chris tried to prepare her for what to expect, but he could see the shock on her face when she walked up to the table that Martin was laying on. His face was swollen and spattered with now dried on blood, his lips bluish in color. They had covered his body with a warming blanket but his limbs were exposed, as the medical staff continued the pressure to his haemorrhaging wounds. Tubes and wires snaked out from under the blanket and several I.V.s had been placed in his arms. She could hear his breathing, rapid and shallow, and the fear in his eyes was obvious.

Martin turned his head when he saw Louisa's movement at his side, grabbing for her with his good arm. Chris had cautioned Louisa to focus on Martin's face, to try not to look at his injured limbs, but when she turned her head to lay it on his chest her gaze fell first on his fractured legs, then on his arm. She wanted to be strong for him, but the tears began to flow. She leaned over to give him a gentle kiss, her tears falling on his cheeks. He let out a moan as another jolt of pain coursed through him. Louisa stroked his face, trying to calm him... noticing how even so battered and bruised, his face was soft and smooth.

"Martin, I'm here... right here. You're going to be just fine, darling man. You have all the best people here helping you."

Martin nodded his head at her, "Love... you... and James ."

"I love you, too. They're going to take you to theatre now, but I'll be there with you when you wake up... I'll be holding your hand," she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

Ed Christianson jerked his head towards the door, indicating to Chris that Louisa needed to leave so that they could get Martin to theatre. Chris took Louisa's arm and gently pulled her back away from her husband. Martin's breathing became more rapid and a look of panic entered his eyes as he watched her move away from him.

"I'll be waiting when you wake up, Martin, Louisa said giving him an encouraging nod.

He started to call out to her, but a nurse shifted his arm slightly to prepare him to be moved and he screamed out in pain.

Chris led Louisa back to the still empty break room, sitting her down at the table.

"Louisa, I'm going to go get you something hot to drink. Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

Louisa shook her head, "I don't care." She sat feeling shell shocked, while Chris stepped out into the hall.

Chris phoned his wife before going back to Louisa. He hadn't had time for more than a quick call to her earlier in the evening to let her know that Martin had been in an accident and that he would be late getting home.

Louisa looked up when she heard the break room door open and saw Chris with two mugs in his hands. He pulled up a chair next to her.

"How are you doing now?"

"I feel sick, Chris. I'm just so terrified."

Chris slid a mug over in front of Louisa, "He's in excellent hands. The next few hours will be critical for Martin... they'll get the internal bleeding under control and then I think we'll see some improvement."

"How long will it take them... before I can see him?"

Chris sighed, "It depends on what kind of damage has been done, but I would guess one to two hours."

Louisa rested her elbows on the table to steady her cup of tea as she sipped at it.

Chris shifted in his chair, "Ah... Louisa. I hope you don't mind, but I called my wife, Carol. She's going to be here in a few minutes to keep you company. I know that you two have never met, but I thought you might benefit from having another female to talk to."

Louisa looked at Chris with red-rimmed eyes, "That's very kind of you, Chris... and kind of your wife. Chris, could you go and let Joe Penhale know the latest on Martin? And, tell him thank you for me? He can go home now... I just can't talk to him about this at the moment... answer his questions."

"Sure, you sit tight. I'll be right back."

* * *

><p>*I thought that definitions for a few of the medical terms used in this chapter might be of help to you readers.<p>

trauma shears-large, heavy duty scissors used to cut through clothing.

Foley catheter- a tube inserted through the urethra into the bladder. A drop in urine output and core body temperature indicate a worsening of hypovolaemic shock.

Hartmann's solution- used to replace body fluid and mineral salts lost in haemorrhaging. It's especially suited when blood loss results in too much acid in the blood (acidosis). The solution is warmed when the patient is hypothermic, this helps to raise the core temperature.

core body temperature- the internal temperature of the body.

haematocrit- the percentage of red blood cells in the blood. Normal adult male level is 40-50%.

packed cells- red blood cells that have been collected and stored for transfusions.

colloids- given to expand fluid volume, especially useful in severe hypovolaemic shock.

polytrauma- multiple severe injuries. Common in high speed motor vehicle accidents.

trauma series- a standard series of x-rays taken, especially with victims of motor vehicle accidents. Used to detect fractures and possible spinal cord injuries. This is often postponed when more immediate concerns need to be addressed.


	40. Chapter 40

Chris returned shortly with his wife. "Louisa, this is Carol."

Chris' wife stepped forward and embraced Louisa, "I am so, so, sorry. I was shocked when Chris called me with the news! It must seem a bit odd to have a total stranger trying to comfort you, but if my being here can be helpful... but, do let me know if you'd rather I give you some space."

Louisa wiped the tears from her face, "No, no. Chris has been a good friend to Martin, and if he picked you to share his life with... well, I'd like to get to know you."

"Louisa, I thought maybe you and Carol could wait in my office. It'd be a lot more comfortable, and there's a sofa in there if you'd like to have a lie down," Chris said, taking Louisa's arm.

Noticing blood on Louisa's clothing and a smear of blood on her cheek, Carol turned to her husband, "Chris, why don't you stay down here with Martin, and I'll take Louisa up to your office."

"That'd be fine, I'll give you a call right away if there's any news to report, Louisa"

"Thank you, Chris," said Louisa as Carol led her to the door.

Carol and Louisa stopped at the lavatory, and Carol used a wet paper towel and wiped the blood off of Louisa's face and dabbed what she could off the sleeve of her blouse and off of her skirt.

"There, that's better," Carol said, smiling at Louisa. "Now, let's go see if we can find the stash of biscuits that I know my husband is hiding in his office."

The CT scan had confirmed Mr. Christianson's suspicions. Martin's liver had been lacerated and his spleen had ruptured. Both were bleeding into his abdominal cavity. Chris sat in the theatre gallery, looking on as Ed Christianson made a midline incision to gain access to Martin's internal organs. He packed off all four quadrants of his liver with laparotomy pads before manually compressing the haemorrhaging area with both hands, while the anaesthetist worked to restore Martin's fluid level. The laceration was then sutured and the packing material removed. The surgeon then turned his attention to the removal of the spleen. After cutting through the ligaments supporting the organ, he then ligated the splenic artery and other blood vessel before completely freeing the organ and removing it. The blood that had haemorrhaged into the abdominal cavity was suctioned out and clean-up was done by flushing the area with normal saline solution. He did a thorough inspection for any additional injuries before he closed.

He then went to work on the open fractures in Martin's leg and forearm, placing temporary shunts into injured blood vessels to restore adequate blood flow to his damaged limbs. The wounds were then left open, but bandaged, to be properly repaired by Mr. Dashwood and the orthopaedist from Imperial when they arrived a bit later. The laceration to Martin's thigh was packed off and bandaged, to be repaired by Robert as well.

Chris left the gallery and hurried down to catch Christianson before he left.

"Well, do you have any good news for me to pass on to Martin's wife?" Chris asked the man as he washed after surgery, scrubbing the blood from his arms.

Christianson looked tired. It was almost one a.m. by this time, and being in charge of the care of a critically injured Martin Ellingham was an onerous responsibility.

"Well, his vitals look a lot more favourable now than they did before we went into theatre." The man sighed heavily, "I don't mind telling you Chris, I'll be happy to pass this case onto the blokes from Imperial. I'm glad you called them."

"That's good to hear, I was afraid I might be stepping on toes, but I was trying to do what I knew Martin would have done. When can Martin's wife see him?"

"I'd say give them another fifteen minutes to get him settled in I.C.U. and then bring her down. It'll be awhile before he wakes up, but she probably just wants to be close to him. Um...you should make sure she knows that he's going to be a hurtin' unit when he wakes up."

"Yep... I know. Thanks a lot Ed, you've done outstanding work tonight," Chris said before exiting the doors.

Louisa had dozed off before Chris returned to his office. Carol gestured to him to be quiet as she got up and slipped out into the hall with her husband.

"How is he, Chris?"

Chris blew out a breath of air, "He's out of surgery and his vital signs have improved. I really should discuss this with Louisa first, though. Sorry bout that... proper protocol," he said, giving her an apologetic kiss.

"No, no... I understand. I'm not sure if we should wake her, though. She was so exhausted and she'll need her energy later, I'm sure."

"Yeah well, that's not our decision to make. I need to let her know that she can go see Martin."

Chris jostled Louisa awake and filled her in on how the surgery had gone. "You can go and see him now if you like, he won't be awake for a little while yet, so if you'd like to sleep some more..."

Louisa was on her feet and halfway out the door before Chris could finish his sentence.

"Is Ruth staying with James tonight?" asked Chris, as the three of them walked through the hospital corridors.

"Yes, she... oh dear, I haven't even thought to call her! Chris, would you mind, she's probably been waiting by the phone."

"Certainly, Carol and I'll pop in when I get done talking to Ruth," he said as they arrived at the I.C.U. "Louisa, Ed Christianson wanted me to tell you... Martin's going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up. They'll get some analgesics in him but it can sometimes take a little while to figure out what will work for a patient. So be prepared for that. I'll try to be back before he comes around though."

Pushing the sliding glass door of Martin's unit aside, Chris gestured to Louisa to go through. Martin was still asleep, but his color was much better and the nurses had done a good job of cleaning him up. Louisa felt a great sense of relief in seeing her husband looking much more like himself.

Chris picked up the chart at the end of the bed and flipped through the already lengthy notes.

Louisa stood at Martin's side, "Chris, where can I touch him?"

"His left arm and hand, his chest and his head are all fine. He has an incision extending from the lower end of his sternum to below his belly button, so avoid that area. He's not awake, but go ahead and talk to him. Hearing is the first of the senses to respond in situations like this so he just may be able to hear you. I'll go call Ruth, okay?"

"Um... yes, thank you, Chris."

Louisa was finally left for a few moments alone with her husband. His hand was limp and cold and when she leaned over to kiss him, he smelled of antiseptic, the same smell she had become used to in their own home. She smiled, thinking back a few months to when Martin had her washing off fruit because that little white dog that had belonged to Joan had been on the kitchen table.

Louisa pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat by her husband, his hand in hers. She stared at his face, still bruised and swollen, several cuts on his forehead and one cheek... perhaps from shattered window glass she thought. With her free hand she played with his hair, brushing her fingers through it before smoothing it back out again.

"I love you so very, much my dear, sweet man. You have to be alright, you know. You have a little boy at home who needs you... and I need you. So, you need to keep fighting Martin. You've been through so much already in your life ... you can do this." Louisa laid her head down on the mattress, holding his hand against her face. She was tired and drifted off to sleep.

Martin's trembling hand, roused Louisa. His eyes barely open, he stared at the ceiling, beads of perspiration forming on his face. His breaths were short and rapid, a slight groan with every exhalation.

"Martin, I'm right here," Louisa said trying to get his attention. "Martin, can you look at me?"

Louisa heard the glass door slide open and Chris stepped into the room.

"Chris, I think Martin's waking up and he's in a lot of pain. Can you do something?"

Chris walked over to his friend's bedside, "Hey, Martin. Can you open your eyes for me? Come on mate, I need you to wake up so we can figure out how to help you with the pain."

Martin's breathing was now sounding as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, as if he could't catch his breath.

Chris took hold of Martin's good hand and squeezed it gently several times, "Martin, you need to open your eyes and look at me... come on, you can do it... open those eyes now!"

Martin blinked several times before squeezing theme shut tight against the bright lights in the room. Chris walked over to the switch and dimmed the lights.

"Martin, can you look at me... please... look at me, Martin." Louisa watched as her husband slowly turned his head towards the sound of her voice. When his eyes made contact with hers, tears welled up in them before rolling down his cheeks.

"It... hurts," Martin forced out, barely audible to Chris and Louisa.

"Yeah, I know, mate. It must hurt like hell... we're going to get some morphine into you, and we'll see if that helps. Ed's on his way, hang in there, pal," Chris said, holding onto Martin's hand.

By the time Ed Christianson reached I.C.U. Martin's entire body was trembling from the pain and his groans could be heard down the corridor. Ed hurried in the door and over to his patient's side. Martin looked at the man with fear and desperation in his eyes before looking frantically around for Louisa. When he spotted her standing off out of the way, he reached his hand out for her, "Louisa!." He called her name amidst his groans of agony.

She hurried to him, taking his hand from Chris and putting her cheek against his, talking softly in his ear, "It's alright Martin... they're going to help you."

Christianson got a morphine drip going and within minutes Martin relaxed, obviously more comfortable.

"Where's your pain at now, Martin? You know how this works... on a scale of 1-10, where's your pain?"

"A seven," Martin answered, still breathing rapidly and releasing an occasional moan.

"Okay, let's bump it up a bit then. I want to see you no higher than a three."

Mr. Christianson continued to increase the morphine by increments until Martin's breathing had slowed and a bit of color had returned to his cheeks.

"Where's your pain at now, Martin?"

"Um... a thhreee," Martin slurred, his eyes unfocused.

"Okay, that's where I want to keep you for now." Turning to Chris and Louisa, he directed them to have him paged immediately if Martin's pain worsened at all.

Chris looked up at the sound of the soft rumbled of the sliding door. Robert Dashwood and the other consultant from Imperial stepped into the room.


	41. Chapter 41

Ed stepped aside to let the two surgeons through the doorway. "Hello, Robert. I was just heading out."

The two men exchanged hand shakes. "How's our patient?" Robert asked him, glancing over at Martin.

"He's pretty heavily medicated right now, but his pain seems to be under control. He's been to theatre. We were struggling with hypovolaemia all night and judging from the abdominal rigidity and tenderness, I was pretty certain he'd sustained some internal injuries. We did an abdominal CT and it showed bleeding from his liver and spleen. He wasn't going to make it until you fellas got here so we took him into theatre...I've done a laparotomy... fixed both issues. I've also put in temporary shunts in both the arm and the leg, and packed off the laceration in his thigh. We need to get him down for a full trauma series yet... just been trying to get him stabilised up to this point."

Chris walked over to shake Robert's hand, "Hi, Robert. It's good to see you again... although not under these circumstances."

"Yes, it wasn't news I was happy to hear. Ah, this is Will Simpson, our top ortho man at Imperial."

The rather short, very distinguished looking doctor stepped forward. "I'll do my very best for him," he said, giving a nod towards Martin while shaking hands with Chris and Ed.

Chris made introductions all around, then Robert walked over to Martin's bedside. Martin was awake but the heavy medications that he was being given made it hard for him to make sense of what was going on.

"Hi, Martin. Hear you had a rough trip home tonight."

Martin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember how he knew the man in front of him.

_I've seen him before... where? In the operating theatre at Imperial? He's a surgeon..._ Martin couldn't think of the man's name though.

"Martin, it's Robert... Robert Dashwood, from Imperial... do you remember me?" Robert leaned over so that Martin could see him a bit better.

Martin shook his head slowly, trying to clear the fog from his brain. "Yesss... wha' areyou doing'ere?"

"It seems Chris called me and said he thought we could be of assistance... so here we are. Can we take a look at what you've done to yourself?"

Martin closed his eyes, nodding his head sluggishly.

Robert pulled the cover back away from Martin's legs first and proceeded to remove the bandage material from the open fracture of his left leg. Will Simpson moved over to where he could get a closer look. Robert lifted Martin's leg slightly to get a look at the other side, causing Martin to groan loudly and begin to tremble again from the pain.

"Sorry, Martin. We're almost done here," said Robert, concern on his face.

Chris glanced over at Louisa sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. She was fighting back tears."

The two consultants discussed what might need to be done to repair the vascular, nerve and soft tissue damage once Martin was in theatre. Robert peeled back the bandage on Martin's thigh.

"Well, this one doesn't look too terrible, Martin. Some debridement and vascular repair and then I think we should be able to stitch that one on up." Robert watched his patient to see if he was understanding any of what had been said.

Will Simpson gently palpated Martin's right leg. "We'll of course need some pictures before I know definitively, but I'm guessing this leg will require surgery as well. But, we'll need to prioritise with these repairs. We may use external fixators on this leg temporarily, then go back in to do an open repair down the road."

Dashwood tucked the blankets back around Martin's legs before going to the other side of the bed to look at his mangled arm. Martin cried out in pain as Robert unwrapped the bandage that was covering the injury.

"I ... 'aveto...vvomit," Martin forced out through ragged breaths. Simpson grabbed a basin and held it for Martin.

"Martin, is it the pain making you nauseous or is it the morphine?" Robert asked.

"Bothh."

Robert noticed the beads of perspiration that had formed on Martin's face as well as the increasing pallor to his skin. "Martin, let's up the midazolam that you're getting. I think it would be best if you were sedated before they started messing around with you down in radiology. And, Will and I'll take a good look at that arm and leg of yours while you're out as well.

Simpson leaned over the bed to talk to his patient, "Martin, the next step will be to get some good pictures of your injuries. Then we'll have some decisions to make, but I think given what you've been through already tonight, it might be wise to use external fixators for now, then go back in on Sunday or Monday and fix things up properly. How does that sound to you?"

"Mm."

"Well, what do you think?" Chris asked Robert.

Robert looked over at Louisa and waved her towards the door, "I think we should go and have a chat about it. Ed, if you don't mind staying with Martin, Will and I can talk some things over with Chris and Louisa."

"Certainly."

Carol was waiting in the hall when they left the room, and she walked with the group to an isolated seating area at the end of the corridor.

Robert gestured to Louisa to take a seat. "Louisa, I want to be sure that you feel you're being included in all of this. I'm afraid that the boys club here could have a tendency to forget about you. First of all, do you have any questions for us?"

"I want to know... is Martin going to be alright?"

Will Simpson cleared his throat, "I think it might be helpful for you to understand our concerns about your husband's condition and then we'll address how we plan to deal with those concerns. You may have heard us use the term poly trauma... that simply means that Martin has sustained several serious injuries. Each of these injuries on their own would not pose a terribly difficult treatment challenge, however, when the human body sustains several major traumas, the body's natural healing processes become compromised. There are metabolic changes, changes in the cardiopulmonary system and the immune system is weakened. Martin has a lot more than the observable injuries to deal with right now.

Robert moved over to take a seat by Louisa, "Also, bear in mind Louisa that Martin's spleen had ruptured. The spleen's main function is to clean the dead blood cells as well as bacteria from the body, so all that bacteria spilled into his body, therefore, infection is a very real concern right now. This is why we don't want to start repairing fractures with plates and screws that can add to that risk of infection. Our plan is to go in today and clean out any nonviable tissue, irrigate the wounds and repair any vascular and nerve damage. And, of course, we will reduce the fractures, in other words, we'll get the bones and bone fragments back into their proper places. Then we'll use what we call external fixators to hold things in place until the risk of infection is lower, at which time we can go in and do more permanent repairs. The open wounds will be left open until that time.

"What are fixators?" Louisa asked the surgeons.

"External fixators are frameworks that, as the name suggests, will be on the outside of your husband's arm and both legs. They're screwed into the bone to hold everything together," Mr. Simpson explained. "It looks a bit gruesome to most people, but it's the best approach for Martin at this time."

Louisa sat listening to Will and Robert, feeling overwhelmed by both the amount of information just thrown at her, and also by just how serious Martin's condition was.

Noticing the distress on Louisa's face, Will Simpson added, "I know this must be very frightening, but I can assure you that both Robert and I have had patients with these types of injuries before and have had good outcomes. We just want you to be aware of the risks, and also to understand why we aren't going in today and fixing everything at once. Now, to answer your original question... Martin has a team of surgeons, doctors and hospital staff worthy of the Queen of England. He has a long road ahead of him, but I am cautiously optimistic. But, don't be too surprised if we continue to find previously undetected injuries, or if we have infections to deal with."

Louisa tried to absorb it all. _Cautiously optimistic... is that the best they can give me?_

"We have a bit of work to do, but we're going to get some good pictures first. Louisa, we're going to be sedating Martin before we do anymore messing around with those limbs of his. He might like to see you first though... you can go on in," Robert said, pointing towards Martin's unit.

"Do you mind if I stop to see Martin for just a bit, Louisa?" Carol asked. "I haven't seen him in quite awhile and would just like to say a quick hello."

"That would be fine... nice really."

Carol noticed the strain and fatigue that was apparent on Louisa's face.

Robert watched as Carol and Louisa walked away before turning back to Chris, "We'll have to see what the CT and x-rays show, but it's possible that some hard decisions may have to be made."

Chris' face hardened, "What... you're not considering amputating his..."

Robert put his hand up to stop Chris, "It's just something that we need to keep on our list of options. My biggest concern at the moment is the high risk of infection that Martin's at right now.

Chris shook his head vigorously, "No! I can't believe amputation is even on the table at this point!

"Chris, keep your voice down, please." Robert admonished.

Chris took in a deep breath before blowing it out, "Martin is going to fight to keep those limbs... you know that, Robert."

"Yes, I know that. And so are Will and I... I promise you that, Chris. I'm just wanting to give you some time to get your head around the possibility is all... and maybe you could broach the subject with Louisa. It's not the kind of thing you want to make a spit second decision about... that's all I'm saying."

"Will you take care of the right leg tonight?" Chris asked in a somewhat calmer tone.

"I spoke with Will about that, and he feels we should play it by ear... see how Martin's vitals look by the time we finish up with the left leg and the arm. The two open fractures are going to take a bit of work, Chris. He's going to be on the table quite awhile for those two problems alone."

"Yes, I understand. Um, Robert..." Chris closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's just that Martin and I have been friends since med school and... well, life hasn't been real easy for him. Just do everything you can for him."

"I will Chris."

Carol and Louisa returned to Martin's unit.

"I brought someone to see you, Martin," said Louisa as they approached his bed.

Carol walked over and put a hand on Martin's shoulder. "I won't stay, Martin, but I did want to say hello and to tell you that I"ll look after Louisa."

"Thank...you," Martin replied groggily.

"Well, I'll stop in again when you're feeling better. Louisa, I'll be waiting outside... whenever you're ready."

Once Carol had left, Louisa pulled a chair up to the bed and sat by her husband, holding onto his hand.

Martin watched Louisa through groggy eyes, "You're ssso beau... beau... tiful."

Louisa smiled at him, "I do love it when you say that."

"Yeess. Louisssa, pleassdon' worry 'bout me."

"Martin, I'm your wife, it's my job to worry about you," she said, standing up to kiss him on the forehead.

Martin struggled to focus his eyes on her, "I'lll be in... theatre... alongg... time. Go get some sleepleassse. Sso I don'... worrry."

Louisa smiled at Martin, "_You_ are worried about _me_?"

"Mmm." Martin's eyes connected with his wife's and he, through the fog of medications, gave her a look of pure adoration.

Robert and Will Simpson came back in the room to get Martin ready to go to radiology.

"Martin, I'm going to give you some midazolam now. When you wake up we'll have a talk about what the pictures tell us," Will explained.

Martin's gaze shifted back to his wife's face. "I love...you Lou...Louisssa."

Louisa leaned over and pressed her lips gently against his, "And, I love you Martin Ellingham."

"Okay Martin, we're going to let you get a little sleep now. We'll talk in another hour or so," Robert said as he injected more midazolam into Martin's A-line.

Within a few minutes, Martin was asleep.

The hospital aide came in and wheeled Martin down the hall.

"He'll be back in about a half hour, Louisa," Will said as he and Robert followed their patient.

A little over an hour later, Robert Dashwood, Will Simpson, Ed Christianson and Chris Parsons stood around Martin's bed.

Robert explained their plan for surgery, "Martin, the pictures showed what we were expecting them to, but we were pleased that there seems to be less nerve involvement in the arm than we had feared. So today, we'll debride and clean up the soft tissue, then irrigate and repair the nerve and vascular damage. Finally, we'll reduce the fractures and secure everything with the external fixators. If your vital signs look good after we take care of the two open fractures, we'll work on that right leg and the laceration on your thigh. Are you good with the plan?"

"Yeaah," Martin said as he reached up and pulled Robert down by his tie. "Don bollocksssthis up," Martin said with a small grin.

"Must be the morphine," Robert answered, smiling back.


	42. Chapter 42

Louisa followed Martin and the surgery team as far as they would allow before she said her goodbye. "You're going to be fine, Martin. Will Simpson says you have a team of surgeons and doctors worthy of the Queen."

"Hm... Louisssa, I leff ssomething for Jaames... inmy dessk drawer. Juss if ssomething happenss."

"Martin, nothing's going to happen. I'm going to go get some sleep at Chris and Carol's and I'll be back here when you wake up. Hmm!"

"Yesss... I love... you."

"I love you to Martin... I will always love you."

Louisa watched as her husband disappeared through the doors.

Chris and Carol were in the surgery waiting area when Louisa came out.

"I take it Mart is in theatre now?" asked Chris.

"Mm hmm. Do you think we could go now?" asked Louisa, anxiety and stress beginning to overwhelm her.

"Of course. We'll go home and get some warm food into you and get you off to bed," Carol said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

The Parson's fed Louisa a very comforting meal of soup and bread and then showed her to their spare bedroom. Finally alone with her thoughts, Louisa let all her emotions flood out in great sobs. When she was too exhausted to cry another tear, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, letting Martin come to her in her dreams.

While Louisa slept, Martin's surgical team worked to save the life and limbs of a respected colleague and friend. They debrided the wounds to his fractured arm and left leg, removing all tissue that was too damaged to recover, then using saline, flushed the wounds thoroughly to remove any remaining bone fragments or dirt particles. Then came the meticulous task of puzzling the bones and bone fragments back into their proper places and securing them by screwing the external fixators into place. Using doppler, Robert checked to be sure that there was an adequate pulse in both Martin's foot and hand. When both surgeons were satisfied that they had done the best job possible, they packed the wounds with antibiotic bead pouches and wrapped them with clear plastic vacuum bandages.

Robert looked over at the anaesthetist, "How he doing? Should we keep working or call it quits?"

"I think you could get that right leg stabilised, his vitals are holding okay," he said as he double checked all of the monitors.

The fractures in Martin's right leg were reduced and the external fixators attached to hold the bones in place until Martin was stable enough for surgical repair in a couple of days.

"His core temp's dropped to 98.2 and the B.P. is now 105/70," the anaesthetist cautioned.

"Alright, we better call it quits for today," Robert said as he reached over to check Martin's fingers for the warmth that would be expected with adequate circulation. "Will, can you check his toes?"

The surgeon smiled at Robert, "Nice and toasty."

Robert stretched and yawned. "Okay, Martin my friend, let's take you back to that lovely wife of yours," he said looking down at his sleeping patient.

Seven hours had passed since Louisa had watched Martin disappear through the theatre doors. It was now mid morning and the daylight had roused her. She scrambled out of bed and slipped into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her red and swollen eyes then quickly showered and dressed.

Chris and Carol were already up and about and a hot breakfast was waiting when Louisa came out to the kitchen.

"Good morning! How did you sleep?" Carol asked as she put a plate of fried eggs and sausage on the table in front of Louisa.

"Quite well, actually. I was completely knackered and I think I was asleep the moment hit the pillow."

"That's good, you needed the rest. Hopefully this will be an easier day," Chris said as he sat down across from Louisa.

"Have you heard anything, Chris?" Louisa asked as she reached for a slice of toast.

"Not yet, but I suspect they may just be finishing up about now. I'll get you over to the hospital as soon as we finish eating... I'm assuming you're rather anxious to see Martin?"

Louisa smiled across at her husband's friend, "Very much so."

A still sleeping Martin had been returned to I.C.U. shortly before Chris and Louisa arrived back at hospital. His face was covered by an oxygen mask and he was buried in thick layers of heated blankets. Chris went directly to the chart hanging on the end of his bed and flipped through the most recent notes. After returning the chart to its proper place, he began to pull at the blankets to uncover Martin's legs.

"Let me show you what they've done here, Louisa. It can be a bit unsettling to see these contraptions for the first time and it will be helpful to Martin if he doesn't see your reaction to all of this."

Louisa moved hesitantly to Chris' side as he pulled the blankets back to expose Martin's legs, elevated on foam blocks. She tried to remain unemotional but she couldn't hold back the tears when she saw the cold mechanical frames penetrating her husbands flesh.

"I'm sorry Chris, I know this is silly... that just looks so... barbaric. Is it painful?"

"Yes, the tibial fractures... uh, the lower leg... tend to be the most painful. We'll do our best to make Martin comfortable though."

Louisa's eyes scanned over Martin's legs, coming to rest on the open wounds. Chris watched as she absorbed it all.

"The wounds are being left open for now because it lowers the infection risk. They've been packed with beads that release antibiotics into the wounds. They then bandaged them with a clear plastic vacuum dressing that keeps everything sealed. This keeps the tissue moist. If soft tissue dries out it becomes nonviable."

Chris pulled a chair up for Louisa when he noticed her face blanching.

"I'm sorry, more information than you wanted maybe?"

Louisa wiped the moisture from her palms, "No, no. I need to know all of this, it's just..."

"It's hard when it's someone you love, isn't it."

"Mm hmm," Louisa took in a deep breath and blew it out. "I think I'm ready to see his arm now, Chris."

Chris tucked the blankets back in around Martin's feet before going to the side of the bed. Martin's arm was being held at a ninety degree angle in a foam sling suspended from a rod over the bed. Chris opened the velcro closures on the topside of the sling so that they could see his arm. It looked much the same as his left leg, having received the same surgical treatment.

"He's so terribly swollen and bruised, Chris. Is that normal?"

"Exactly what we would expect... it could take weeks for all the swelling and bruising to clear... months possibly. Martin's going to have a very long recovery, Louisa. We both need to be making some plans for the next six months or so. Um, Carol and I were talking before you got up this morning... we would like to offer you a place to stay for as long as you need it. You could even have James join you over here. Carol said that she would be happy to help out with James' care when you need to be here with Martin."

Louisa reached out to embrace Chris, "You and Carol... this has been a nightmare... I really needed help... Martin needed help, and you were both there for us. I appreciate your kindness so very much."

Louisa saw a movement to her side and looked over to see Martin trying to raise his arm. She hurried to the other side of the bed and took hold of his hand. He moaned softly before she saw his eyes open slightly and she reached up to stroke his face. He mumbled something unintelligible.

"Martin, I'm right here. Do you want to wake up?"

Martin's eyes fluttered before opening a bit more. He turned his head towards the sound of his wife's voice, watching her, his gaze unfocused.

"Louissa... is it... over?"

"Yes, Martin. It's over... you did very well."

Martin stared at his wife, then swallowed hard before asking so softly and hesitantly that Louisa could barely hear him, "Did they cut it off?"

Louisa leaned in closer, "I'm sorry, Martin... I couldn't hear you very well."

Martin turned his head to the other side. He pulled his good hand free from hers and grabbed at the blankets, trying to pull them back.

He began to breathe rapidly, feeling around frantically to his side.

"What do you need, Mart?" Chris asked, watching tears welling in his friend's eyes.

"They... cut it... off! They cut... it off, Chris!" Martin cried out hoarsely.

It suddenly registered with Chris what Martin had been searching for.

"No, Mart. They didn't cut it off. Your arm's back here, mate," Chris said, guiding his friends head so that he could see his arm, positioned out of his previous line of sight.

Martin's breathing slowed and the tears of relief began to flow.

Louisa put her hands on her husband's cheeks and kissed him. "Oh, Martin. You were worried about that!"

Chris reached over and pulled the oxygen mask off of Martin's face. Louisa grabbed some tissues and dried his tears.

"Everything's fine Martin, you still have two arms and two legs," Louisa said pressing her lips to his.

Martin let his head settle back into the pillow and closed his eyes to the world again.

Chris left a short time later to get some work done in his office. Louisa sat in the chair by her husband's bed, holding his hand and toying with his hair. How quickly their lives had changed. Yesterday at this time, Martin was talking to her in the school gymnasium. How surprised she was to have him go out of his way to stop to say he loved her. Yesterday life seemed challenging enough... school term having just started for Louisa and Martin trying to work through all of the challenges left him by his horrid parents. Today, she found herself wishing those were the only challenges facing them.


	43. Chapter 43

Louisa had fallen asleep with her head lying on the mattress next to her husband. She was awakened by the sound of Carol's voice.

"Louisa... Louisa, the surgeons are here to check up on Martin."

She sat up abruptly, trying to get her bearings. She had been dreaming... dreaming that she and Martin were walking along the coastal path. It was a beautiful day, the warm sun comforting as it hit their backs. Then the ocean water, that had been gently lapping at the shoreline, began to roil as the sky turned black and a torrent of rain began to fall. They turned to run for home, the dirt under their feet turning to mud. Suddenly, Martin's feet slipped out from under him and he began to slide down the hill towards the cliff's edge. He grabbed frantically for something to stop his skid... rocks, branches, tufts of grass. She screamed his name as his body disappeared over the rocky ledge, his fingers gripping tenuously to the edge. She ran to him and grabbed onto his wrists as he struggled to overcome gravity. Feeling his arms slip from her wet and muddy hands, she watched as he fell towards the rocks below. But, his descent downward slowed until he was floating in the air, just out of reach of her fingertips.

She was calling to him in her sleep when Carol came to wake her. She startled and grasped onto Martin's hand, breathing a sigh of relief that she could feel the warmth of life in him. She turned to Carol and put her arms around her, breaking down in tears.

"Louisa, what's wrong?"

Louisa's sobs slowed and she took in several ragged breaths, "It was a bad dream... that's all. I'm sorry."

Carol held her close until she regained her composure. Then she turned to the surgeons waiting in the doorway, "We'll just run down the hall to get a drink, then we'll be right back."

"Sure, take your time," said Robert.

The two women returned a few minutes later, Louisa feeling somewhat embarrassed by her display of emotion.

"Sorry about that, this is all beginning to take a toll."

"Quite alright, Louisa. It's to be expected actually," said Mr. Simpson. "We just stopped by to check up on your husband... and to answer any questions that you might have. Has he been awake at all?"

"He woke up shortly after I got here this morning, but fell back to sleep pretty quickly and has been sleeping since. Is that normal? He's alright isn't he?"

"Yep, perfectly normal. His body is just worn out... and it doesn't help that we have a potent cocktail of medications that we've been pumping into him... antibiotics, anti inflammatories, pain meds, and a number of other drugs to keep him stable. It's all exhausting."

Robert finished writing in Martin's medical chart and looked up at Louisa. "I think Will and I are both reasonably happy with how things went in theatre. We have a lot of work to do yet, but I feel much better knowing that those limbs are stabilised."

Louisa sat stroking Martin's hand, "Do you know when you'll do the final work on his fractures?"

"We'll see how he's doing on Monday. If all looks good we'll take him back in then. I can't say that we'll finish things up then, however," Robert explained. "Martin will need a series of surgeries. We'll do the final internal fixation on Monday, and then we'll go back in forty-eight hours later to excise, or remove rather, any nonviable soft tissue and drain off fluid accumulations. If things look good at that point we may suture the wounds closed. But we'll need to do some additional work down the road... some skin grafts for sure."

Louisa sat quietly for a few moments, "I didn't realise this would be such a process, it's rather frightening actually."

Robert looked at her sympathetically, "I'm sure it is. My advice would be to take it one procedure at a time. Try not to think too far ahead. I don't need to tell you though... Martin will _not_ be a tolerant patient. This is going to be a long and frustrating ordeal for him, he'll need your encouragement."

Robert turned his attention to his patient, "Martin... Martin, can you wake up and talk to us?"

Louisa stood up and stroked Martin's face, "Martin, Robert and Will are here to check on you. Can you wake up so that they can talk to you?"

Martin moaned softly and turned his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brow.

"Martin, are you having pain?" Robert asked.

"My head... hurts."

"Will, can you dim the lights?" Robert pulled out his pocket torch and checked his patients pupillary reflexes.

"Martin, the trauma series pictures showed lung contusions as well as some mild bruising on your brain, which would account for the headache. We'll need to keep an eye on this. As you know, this will worsen some before we see improvement. Let us know if it the headache gets any worse, okay?"

"Mmm."

Robert turned to address Louisa, "Has anyone discussed with you the effects of shear forces?"

Louisa furrowed her brow and shook her head, "I'm sorry, what do you mean by shear forces?"

"The organs in the body have different densities, and therefore accelerate and decelerate at different rates. For instance, the lung tissue is not very dense and therefore, less energy is required to displace those organs. So when the human body is subjected to rapid deceleration in a high speed car accident, the lungs travel faster than the denser tissue surrounding them, resulting in the lungs pulling away from the other tissue. This can cause contusions, or bruising, on the lungs. When we did the radiology and CT work up on Martin early today, we found pulmonary contusions. We'll need to monitor this closely. It will almost certainly worsen before we begin to see improvement."

Louisa closed her eyes, sighing heavily. "What exactly does this mean for Martin? How will this affect him... is it serious?"

Robert pulled up a chair and sat down. "It means that he could develop some difficulty breathing. If he does, we can give him supplemental oxygen or in a worst-case scenario, put him on a ventilator temporarily."

"How long will it take for his lungs to heal?" Louisa asked as she picked up Martin's hand.

"We should see improvement by the end of the week. So I think this will be manageable, Louisa. But, I wanted you to be aware of it."

It was half three by the time the surgeons left Martin's room. Carol had just returned with two cups of tea and sat down next to Louisa who was stilling hanging onto her husband's hand.

"Carol, I really need to get back to PortWenn... pick up some clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, that kind of thing. And, I really, really miss my baby boy. Could you stay with Martin while I do that?"

"I could drive you, Louisa. Chris could probably stay with Martin... I can check with him."

Louisa turned to look at her husband, still sound asleep. She hated to leave him, afraid something could happen while she was gone, but she really needed to collect James and relieve Ruth of her childcare duties.

"I _would_ feel much better about leaving if Chris could come and stay with Martin... if you don't mind asking him."

Carol gave Louisa a reassuring smile, "I'll go and call him right now."

Louisa stood up and kissed Martin's cheek. "Martin, can you wake up so that I can talk to you?" Putting her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "Martin, I need you to wake up for just a little while."

Louisa watched as a scowl came to his face and he pulled his head away from her. His eyes opened slightly and she tickled his cheek with her fingertips.

"I need to leave for awhile... to go get James and some clothes and things."

Martin opened his eyes a bit more and turned to look at his wife. "Is... James... here?"

"No, Martin. I'm going to make a trip back to PortWenn. I'll bring James back with me and we'll stay with Chris and Carol."

"I wannna ssee... James. Can you... bringim?" Martin asked sleepily.

"I'll ask Chris, but I really don't think they'll let him in to see you. Too many germs, you know."

"Mmm. Louissa... pleasse... make shhure you... come back."

"You can count on it, Martin," she said kissing him on the nose. "Now, you go back to sleep and I'll be back a bit later. Chris is going to come and stay with you until I get back, be good for him, okay."

Martin didn't respond, he had already fallen back to sleep.

Louisa brushed her hand over his head one last time before leaving to find Carol.

The drive to PortWenn seemed interminably long. Louisa was both anxious to see her son and Ruth as well as to get back to her husband.

Ruth met them on the surgery terrace, James in tow. The baby reached his arms out for his mum.

"James, I missed you! Have you been a good boy for Ruth?" Louisa asked as she took James from Ruth.

"How's Martin?" Ruth asked, worry etched on her face.

"Could we go in and discuss it over a cuppa? I am knackered!"

"Certainly," said Ruth, eyeing Carol. "Are you going to make introductions dear or should I introduce myself?"

"Oh dear, where are my manners? Carol, this is Martin's Aunt Ruth. Ruth, this is Martin's friend Chris's wife, Carol. Carol and Chris have been of immeasurable help since Martin's accident, Ruth. In fact Chris is sitting with Martin while I'm gone."

They went into the kitchen and Louisa set about heating water and setting out cups, milk and sugar.

"Martin's better than last night, Ruth. But, it was a bad accident... he's..." Louisa got up and went into the reception area, bringing back a box of tissues.

Louisa took a deep breath before continuing, "You know most of the details I believe, but Martin was back in surgery around two o'clock this morning and they didn't finish with him until after nine. They set his fractures... or whatever they call it... and attached external fixators to hold everything in place. I guess the latest news is that the x-rays and CT pictures that they got in the middle of the night showed bruising to both Martin's brain and his lungs. Robert told me that Martin could develop breathing problems. This is all so terrifying, Ruth."

Louisa reached for another tissue, "Martin is in so much pain sometimes, Ruth. The few times that I've seen him hurt he's been so stoic. He groans from the pain he's in now, sometimes actually screams..." Louisa broke down, putting her hands over her face and sobbing.

Ruth waited until she had collected herself then looked at her very directly. "Well dear, I think this is your chance to prove to Martin that he can trust you to stick it out with him. You _are_ being tested, no doubt about it. But, if you can stick with him through this... help him through this... well then, I think you will have gone a long way in earning back that trust that you so dearly want from him."

Louisa hurried to get a bag packed for James as well as a suitcase of her own belongings. Then she went back to the kitchen to write out a note to Poppy explaining that they would not be needing her services until further notice, but that she would still receive her wages as usual. Louisa didn't want to be worrying about losing their childminder in addition to all the other worries at the moment. She charged Ruth with getting the note to Poppy.

She also needed to make a call to Dr. Newell. He would want to know about Martin's accident and she also needed to cancel their upcoming appointments. Louisa went to Martin's surgery, looking for the therapist's phone number. She pulled out his top desk drawer, where she knew he kept his appointment calendar and contact list. Picking up the book, she noticed a sheet of stationary paper underneath with Martin's familiar script. She sat down in his chair to read it.

_Dear James,_

_One beautiful summer day, you came into the world and changed my life. You gave it direction... focus... purpose. When your mum handed you to me I held you up at arms length to examine you with the eyes of a medical professional. What an odd looking little creature you were, definitely human and yet so alien to the world that I had existed in all my life. You were so small that I could encircle your little body with my hands. You stared back at me as I studied your features, seemingly as curious about me as I about you. You had no preconceived notions about me. To you, I was a blank slate on which I was free to write my own story, not the story dictated to me by my parents, teachers at boarding school nor society in general. No one had yet informed you that my cerebral nature, social awkwardness, and introverted personality would prevent me from ever fitting into the mould that society had created for the ideal human being. Yes, you were so alien to the world I had known._  
><em>You were born in a modest little pub in the middle of the Cornish moorland, and like that little pub in the middle of a rather bleak landscape, you became a little haven for me in an otherwise rather bleak life. Your mum can share with you sometime why I describe my life in this way, but suffice it to say, you and your mother were my salvation from a rather lonely and miserable existence. <em>  
><em>As I knelt by that disgusting old pub sofa, watching you in your mother's arms, I realised my life would never be the same. You had changed me in an instant. It's an overwhelming responsibility to be a father, especially the father of a son. I know you will look to me for guidance. I also know that I'm responsible for being an example of what it means to be a good man. I fear that I will often fall short in that regard, and I hope that you will forgive me my many shortcomings. But, I will strive to be the father you deserve, and of this you can be sure, you will never question my love for you, James Henry. I wish for you a most happy and fulfilling life my dear boy. <em>  
><em>I will always cherish you,<em>  
><em>Dad<em>

Louisa leaned back in her husband's chair, closed her eyes and sent an earnest prayer to the heavens that God would watch over the special man to whom she had committed herself, the father that her son so dearly needed.


	44. Chapter 44

It was past James' bedtime by the time Carol and Louisa arrived back at the Parson's, and despite the fact that he was in a strange place, he went down very quickly.

Chris picked Louisa up and drove her back to the hospital so that she could see Martin again before visiting hours were over. He was awake when she walked into his room. He looked sleepy but happy to see her.

"How's James?" He asked as she settled into the chair next to his bed.

"He's just fine. He went right to sleep at the Parson's. It makes me wonder if he had Ruth up half the night last night."

"Mmm, issposssible."

"How's the pain now... any better than it was?"

"Mmaay...be."

"Ruth says to say hello... She's planning to drive over tomorrow. She's quite worried about you, Martin."

Martin furrowed his brow, "Issa lonng drive...for ssomeone... herage."

Louisa stroked Martin's cheek, "You're going to get yourself into trouble with your aunt talking like that, Martin Ellingham."

"Mmm, yyes."

Two male nurses slipped through the sliding door. "We need to shift you just a bit, Dr. Ellingham. Mr. Simpson wants us to give you a little extra analgesia before we do that though," said the taller of the two men as he adjusted Martin's morphine drip.

They waited a few minutes for the increased medication to take effect, recording vital signs and dosage alterations in the chart on the end of the bed while watching Martin for signs that he was responding to the additional morphine.

"How are you feeling now Dr. Ellingham?"

Martin's response was too garbled to be understood and he stared glassy eyed at the men.

"You must be Dr. Ellingham's wife," said the second man.

"Yes, I'm Louisa."

"It's nice to meet you. We just need to roll your husband over a bit. He's going to be in this bed awhile and we don't want him developing pressure sores, so we'll be trying to shift him every two hours or so."

The men worked together to move the sling holding Martin's arm above his head so that it would be in the proper position when they rolled him over.

"Okay, Dr. Ellingham, we're going to move you now. We'll be as careful as we can but this will probably hurt."

One of the men rolled Martin's upper body while the other swung his right leg over his left so that he was lying on his side. Martin grimaced in pain and let out a long, loud groan. Louisa could hear a rattling sound in his chest as he gasped for air and began to cough.

The nurses were evidently anticipating the effect that the additional morphine, combined with the pain of being moved, would have on their patient. One of the men hurried over with a basin and the other grabbed a small pillow and held it firmly against the surgical wound in Martin's abdomen. Martin tried to vomit but he hadn't eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours so there was little more than a bit of clear liquid that came up. Even with the added support of the pillow against his stomach, the contractions of his abdominal muscles were very painful and it caused Martin to gasp for air, triggering a coughing fit that brought up phlegm mixed with blood.

Louisa hurried over, reaching for Martin's hand. She could feel fine tremors coursing through him as he attempted to regain control of his breathing. His face began to look more relaxed but Louisa could see that the ordeal had exhausted him.

"Should I go and find Chris?" she asked him.

Martin shook his head, "No... I'll be... fine," he said, his breathing shallow and rapid. "I'm tired... Maaybe you shougo... gesleep... too."

Louisa sat by her husband's bedside until he had fallen asleep and his breathing had returned to normal. Then she kissed him goodnight and slipped out quietly to return to her home away from home, where she too drifted off to sleep.

Louisa was awakened Sunday by the typical morning sounds of the Parsons family. She was feeling much more refreshed, having had a good night's sleep.

After grabbing a quick breakfast and going over James' usual routine with Carol, Chris drove Louisa to hospital. It was a bright and sunny late summer morning,and the air had a softness to it that Louisa found comforting.

Martin was asleep when they entered his room. Louisa had filled Chris in on the events of the previous evening and she had noticed him knitting his brows as she related the details of Martin's coughing episode. He went right to the patient, foregoing his usual perusal of the notes hanging on the end of the bed. Pulling out a stethescope and placing it on Martin's chest, he listened with a deepening frown on his face.

"What's the matter, Chris?" Louisa asked, her anxiety growing as she watched her husband's friend.

Chris held up a hand to quiet her as he worked his way up Martin's chest with the stethoscope, finally holding it to his neck.

"I'm not sure Louisa, but I think Robert will want to come and take a look at Mart. I'm hearing some abnormal breath sounds. I'm going to step out and give him a call."

Chris returned shortly, "Robert was on his way when I reached him. He should be here in just a few minutes." Chris gave Louisa an encouraging smile but it didn't ease her anxiety.

Louisa heard footsteps rapidly approaching in the hallway before Robert came through the door. Listening to Martin's chest, he nodded his head at Chris.

"Yep, I hear it too. Let's get him down to CT."

Chris left the room to chase up someone to take Martin back to radiology. Louisa looked apprehensively at Robert before tentatively asking, "What's going on... is something wrong?"

"Chris and I are both hearing something called Hamman's sign when we listen to Martin's breath sounds. It's a crackling noise that corresponds with his heartbeat. For some reason, air bubbles have formed in your husband's chest. When his heart beats, it pushes against those air bubbles. It's the sound of the bubbles popping that makes the crackling noise. We'll get a CT scan and hopefully that will tell us what's going on in there."

Robert waved his hand at Louisa, "Come over here, you can hear it for yourself." Louisa listened through Robert's stethoscope, mesmerised by the sound of Martin's heart contracting to pump the blood through his body, delivering oxygen to all of his organs.

"Do you hear the crackling sounds?" Robert asked her.

Louisa refocused her attention to listening for the noise she should be hearing. Yes, it was there.

"Lay your hand on his chest, you can probably even feel the vibrations," said Robert, adjusting the placement of her hand.

Martin began to stir and opened his eyes. He looked at Louisa, half awake and very bewildered.

She caressed his chest gently and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. "Sorry to disturb you."

"Martin, we're going to take you back down to CT. Chris noticed crackles in your chest this morning and we want to check it out."

There was a delay in Martin's response as his slowed brain mulled the information. "Hamman'sign?" asked Martin.

"Yep, we need to rule out a tracheal tear."

Martin closed his eyes, sighing heavily. He knew that a tracheal tear would in all likelihood mean more surgery.

Thirty minutes later, Chris and Robert stood analysing the pictures from the scan.

"Chris went over and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Martin, you do have a tracheal tear... posterior mediastinal. It's not severe but large enough that we'll need to repair it. We looked at your previous scan and it wasn't visible then. You probably enlarged the tear when you had the coughing jag yesterday."

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head in resignation.

"We'll do a posterolateral thoracotomy, fix the tear and get out of there... should be fairly quick," Robert said, trying to reassure his patient.

"We've called Ed Christianson in to do the repair, Mart. I don't have to tell you, the guy does excellent thoracic work," said Chris.

"Martin, I'm going to go and start scrubbing up, I'll be assisting on this... we'll take good care of you, mate," Robert said, before turning to leave.

Chris stepped out of the room to give Louisa some time alone with her husband.

She looked sympathetically into his eyes. "You're just keeping me on the edge of my seat you know," she said, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood.

Martin rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, turning his head away from her. Louisa was at a loss for any words of encouragement that she hadn't already worn out. Sighing, she pressed her cheek to his, "I love you, Martin."

Louisa had been dozing in the chair while Martin was in theatre, and was awakened by the sound of approaching voices and the rumble of the sliding door. She stood and stretched as they wheeled her husband's bed back into the room. He had a mask over his face, providing him with humidified air to breathe. One of the nurses explained that it was important to keep the airway moist to facilitate healing.

Chris entered the room a short while later. "Everything went very smoothly, Louisa... no nasty surprises."

Louisa blew out a long breath, "Do you think this will take care of the problem?"

"It should. They did a thoracotomy. They made an incision from just under his right nipple on around to his back. Then they cut through one of his ribs to get to the tracheal tear. The repair looks excellent though."

Louisa sat back heavily into the chair, "Chris, Martin looked absolutely defeated after you told him he'd be going back to theatre, and I didn't have a clue as to what to say to make him feel any better."

"It's been a rough couple of days and Martin's no dummy, he knows what he has ahead of him. It's gotta be daunting."

"Do you think this is it now... for any new problems to crop up?"

"Well, you know I can't make any guarantees, but I can tell you that once we get past the first forty-eight hours, we usually see pretty steady improvement."

Chris moved over to Martin's bedside and pulled the blankets back, "They put in a couple of drains Louisa, to keep fluid from accumulating in his chest. This should make it much easier for him to breathe. They also put in a thoracic epidural which should help a lot with the pain. Thoracotomies are inherently painful procedures."

"I think I'll go get some lunch, then I could relieve you for awhile if you'd like to run down to the canteen," said Chris, pulling the blankets back up around his friend.

"That would be good Chris, I don't want to leave until after Martin wakes up anyway."

Shortly after Chris stepped out there was a soft knock on the door and Ruth stuck her head in. "Everybody decent in here?"

"Yes, Ruth come on in! It is _so _good to see you," Louisa said, giving the woman a heartfelt hug.

"It's been a bad morning... they discovered that Martin had a tracheal tear... he's just come back from theatre."

"Oh dear, that's not good! Thoracotomy?"

"Mm hmm."

Ruth walked over to the bed and leaned over slightly to scrutinise her nephew. "Not too bad as far as the facial wounds go." She pulled back the covers at the foot end of the bed to lay her doctors eyes on what type of fixators the orthopaedist had opted for. "Oh dear lord, Martin!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "Well, my nephew never does things halfway."

She then went to the head of the bed and undid the velcro closures on the sling supporting Martin's arm. Ruth said nothing but Louisa could see by the look on her face that the severity of the injury had distressed her.

Ruth pulled up a chair next to Louisa and sat down. "Have they said what their expectations are... will he have full use of the arm?"

"I don't know Ruth, I've been afraid to ask. Robert said that he was pleased with how things had gone with the operation, so I'm hopeful."

Ruth changed the subject, "How's my great nephew doing in his new quarters?"

"He went right to sleep last night. Martin and I wondered if he'd been up a lot for you the night before."

"Yes," Ruth sighed. "It seems I misplaced his purple dinosaur and he wouldn't go to sleep without it." The woman gazed absentmindedly across the room. "I discovered it in the refrigerator this morning, next to his bottles of formula," she said, reaching into her purse and retrieving the plush reptile.

"Oh, I'm so glad you brought it with you. It should make James feel more at home while we're here."

Louisa got up and hurried to Martin's bed when she saw him lift his arm and attempt to reach the most recent violation to his body. She grasped his hand to hold his arm back and he feebly tried to lash out at her. Ruth hurried over to the other side of the bed.

"Martin, you need to lay still. It will only hurt more if you thrash about. Louisa, go and get either a doctor or one of the nursing staff."

Louisa returned promptly with Ed Christianson. "Hey Martin. Try to lay still and we'll get this epidural going for you," he said as he toyed with catheter snaking out from under his patient.

Martin stared at Louisa, wild-eyed.

"Is that any better for you?" his surgeon asked some seconds later.

Martin nodded his head, his eyes softening.

"We're all done in theatre Martin and the repair looks good. One more hurdle cleared, eh?" Ed said.

"Mmm."

Martin turned his head and his eyes connected with Ruth's, tears welling in them as he reached his hand out to her.

A very surprised Aunt Ruth moved back over and took hold of her nephew's hand and leaned over to give him a spontaneous kiss on the forehead before her impassive self took over again.

"I'm... gladure... here," Martin said hoarsely.

"I'm glad you're here too, Martin. You were very lucky I think," said Ruth.


	45. Chapter 45

Chris stayed with Martin while Ruth and Louisa went to the canteen to get lunch.

"Is that all you're going to eat, dear?" Ruth asked, looking at the small salad on Louisa's tray.

"I'm really not hungry, Ruth. I'm sure my appetite will come back once I know that Martin will be alright."

Louisa absentmindedly poked around at the chunks of lettuce on her plate. "Um Ruth, what was Martin like when he was young?"

"Well, much of what I know about little Marty is second hand information passed on by Joan and Phil. I'm afraid I didn't spend the time with him that they did. I regret that now, but it's water under the bridge as they say," Ruth said, peering up from her lasagna. "I can tell you this much, he could just about drive Joan crazy with his incessant questions. Very, _very_ curious child."

"Hm, but would you have guessed he would grow into the man he is today or did you picture him becoming someone different?"

"I guess I might have been less surprised if he'd become a research scientist tucked away in the back of a lab somewhere, or perhaps a farmer in the back of beyond somewhere."

Louise stopped chasing her salad and stared at her husband's aunt, "_Martin... a farmer?_"

"Yes, when he was young. He loved it at the farm... the animals, working with Joan in the garden, tinkering with Phil on the machinery. And, I think he liked the quiet."

"What happened along the way, to that Martin... do you think?"

"I don't know dear. Something changed in him between the time I saw him at age four and when I saw him at age six. He was always a shy and sensitive boy, but he became withdrawn... he seemed to shut down..." Ruth pointed her fork at Louisa, "I credit his lovely parents... but I don't know," she said shrugging her shoulders."Why all these questions?"

"Hmm, I guess he seems like such a mystery sometimes. I know some of what his childhood was like, but it all seems so foreign to me. It's hard to imagine how someone who'd been so unfortunate as to have been the progeny of Margaret and Christopher, could develop into the father that James Henry has been blessed with. Where did he learn that? Certainly not from _his_ parents, and certainly not at that boarding school that he spent the majority of his childhood in."

Ruth laid her fork down and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "I think Martin _did_ learn his parenting skills from his parents. Many children of less than ideal parents grow into less than ideal parents themselves. Become bitter and take it out on their own children perhaps, or just imitate the same flawed parenting strategies that were used with them when they were children. Martin, on the other hand, learned from his parent's mistakes... what the negative effects were on him, what he needed and didn't receive. And, fortunately, Martin has a tender heart and would never do anything to hurt his son. That tender heart though, made him quite vulnerable to his parent's coldness and harsh disciplinary tactics."

"When I was getting ready to come back over here yesterday, I needed something from the desk in Martin's office, and I found the most beautiful letter that Martin had written to James. It'll be a wonderful gift to him when he's older. The man is full of surprises," Louisa said shaking her head.

"Well, we should get back to that man of yours," Ruth said as she stood to leave. "Louisa, I do want to say that I feel quite confident that Martin will recover from all of this, but he'll need every ounce of help and support that you have to give him."

"He has whatever he needs from me, Ruth"

Chris was reading a medical journal when the two women returned to the I.C.U. Martin had been sleeping but woke up when they came into the room.

"Martin, you're awake," Louisa said, giving him a broad smile.

"Mm, jus woke up," Martin said sluggishly.

Louisa went over and took his hand, then kissed him on the forehead. She pulled back, and frowning, she studied his face. Martin, you're hot, do you feel alright?"

"No... I don' feel... alrigh'! Thas... an inane... quession."

"Chris?"

"Yes Louisa, his temperature is elevated, but we're staying ahead of it. We were anticipating this and it'll be very closely monitored."

"Hmm," she said, looking dubiously at her husband.

Martin gave Chris a knowing look. "I tol' you," he said before closing his eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

"Chris, you will give me some warning if there's anything to be concerned about, won't you?"

"Yes, I promise I will. And, I was going to tell you about this, but you noticed he was feverish before I had a chance. This is something we need to stay on top of, and certainly, if he weren't in a hospital situation this infection could have dire consequences, but we're hitting him hard with broad spectrum antibiotics that will help him to fight this off."

Louisa looked nervously back at Martin.

"I'm not trying to change the subject, but Carol was wondering if Ruth might like to have dinner and spend the night with us. It would save you a drive back in the dark, Ruth."

"I do appreciate the offer, but I didn't come prepared for an overnight."

"I can get a toothbrush from the nurses station if that's all you need, Ruth."

"I _would_ feel better knowing you're not on the road after dark," said Louisa, giving Ruth an apologetic smile.

"Now you sound like my nephew. That would actually be quite nice Chris, that's very kind of you and your wife."

"Good, that's that settled. I'll call Carol and let her know," Chris said as he moved towards the door.

Louisa pulled the chair back up beside Martin's bed and took his hand in hers.

"Ruth, you're a doctor..."

"Yes, I believe I have a piece of paper that says something to that effect."

Louisa gave her husband's aunt an amused look. "I guess I'm worried about Martin's fever. Chris made it sound like it's nothing to be concerned about, but... are you worried?"

"Well... I can't say that it isn't discomforting. However, Chris is quite correct in saying that infection is to be expected in someone with Martin's kind of injuries, especially with the hypovolaemia. They have him stabilised but the effects on his immune system, metabolism... just what do you know about haemorrhagic shock... or hypovolaemia?"

"I know that it's caused by blood loss."

"Yes, and there are other causes, but in Martin's case it was blood loss. This condition affects just about every system in the body... respiratory, metabolic, endocrine..." And, these effects aren't immediately rectified when the fluids are replaced. It will take Martin time to recover, and until he has, things will be rather discombobulated. For one thing, he'll be more prone to infections."

"Does that mean that this infection that he has will be harder for him to fight off?"

"Yes, but as Chris said, they've started him on some powerful broad spectrum antibiotics."

Louisa thought about what Ruth had explained to her, unsure that the woman had ever really answered the question that was on her mind. She just wanted someone to tell her that her husband was going to be alright. Maybe she'd been dancing around the real question because she knew she wasn't going to get the answer that she was hoping for.

Ruth had dozed off in her chair and Louisa was resting her head on the bed next to Martin's hand when he began to stir, mumbling something in his sleep. She raised her head, trying to make out what he was saying. Most of it was so slurred and garbled that it was unintelligible.

"I... notmy... fault...ssorry..." Martin's mumblings were sounding more and more distressed and his breathing more rapid.

Louisa turned as Ruth approached her nephew.

"Iwan'...out!

Louisa reached out her hand to wake her husband and relieve him of the mental pain he seemed to be in, but Ruth grasped her arm.

"Just let him be for a bit," Ruth said with a look of confidence and authority.

"Ssorry... Mum... please don'... sscared in there!"

"Ssorry...I din knowhat...to..." Martin mumbled as his whimpers turned to sobs.

He began to flail his free arm about, as if trying to push away some imagined restriction.

"Okay, maybe you should wake him, dear," said Ruth, now concerned that her nephew could further injure himself.

"Martin, wake up. You're dreaming, Martin," Louisa said as she smoothed his hair with her hand.

He cringed, turning his head quickly away from her, bringing his arm up to cover his face.

Louisa took his hand, holding it against her cheek and she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"Martin, you need to wake up... you're having a dream... a nightmare."

Martin blinked rapidly then stared at Ruth and Louisa, wild-eyed and disoriented.

His eyes focused in on his aunt, and he turned his head away in embarrassment.

"Maybe I'll just step out for a bit... give you two some time," said Ruth, slipping out the door.

Louisa sat, caressing her husband's cheek then brushing through his hair with her fingertips. The ragged breaths she had heard earlier were beginning to ease and he turned his head back to look at the ceiling. She watched his face, noting the darkening circles under his eyes. Louisa waited for him to tell her about his dream, but the words never came. His eyelids became heavy and he dropped back off to sleep.

In light of the infection that had developed, the decision had been made to delay Martin's internal fixation operation until at least Wednesday, so Robert and Will Simpson had gone back to London to tend to their duties there. They would drive back down late on Tuesday, and planned to be in theatre early the next morning to work on their friend.

Chris came to Martin's room in the evening to collect Ruth and Louisa. Louisa was reluctant to leave Martin, afraid she would come back in the morning to find something had happened overnight. But, she also had a baby to tend to, so she kissed Martin goodnight and left with Chris and Ruth.

As they sat around the dinner table that night, Ruth described in great detail, and with great enthusiasm, the plans that she and Al had for the farm.

"I'm sure Joan never dreamed that her little farm would turn into such an enterprise!" Carol remarked. "I am really impressed with all that you and Al have accomplished already."

"Yes, well... it's all on paper so far. Now if we can just make it happen!"

Turning to Louisa, Ruth added, "I guess technically this is _Martin's_ enterprise. Al and I have just been playing with it."

Louisa looked at Ruth, perplexed, "I don't know what you mean, Ruth. Martin's had no involvement in this whatsoever."

"Well, maybe not directly, but I do consider him the chief financial officer."

Louisa laid down her fork, "Ruth, I'm not following you at all! What are you talking about? Joan left you the farm in her will."

Ruth shifted in her chair and looked at her nephew's wife awkwardly. "I think I may have said too much already."

"Ruth, if you don't tell me, this will be eating at me. And, I really don't need that right now!"

The elderly woman slowly folded her napkin and laid it next to her plate. "Several years ago, my lovely brother decided to renege on an agreement that he had made with Joan and Phil. When Uncle Dick died, he left the farm to both Joan and Christopher. Christopher had no use of it and told Joan and Phil that they could have it... that he didn't want it... that it was small change for a surgeon. Forty years later, Christopher and Margaret came to, as they called it, _visit _Martin. When Martin took them out to see Joan, Christopher announced that he wanted his half of the value of the farm... three hundred thousand pounds. Of course Joan didn't have that kind of money! She was furious. She thought that Martin was in on the whole thing. She was very hurt... not by her brother, that came as no surprise. But, she was devastated, thinking that Martin had turned on her that way. She really loved him," said Ruth, fondling her teacup.

"She told all three of them to get out. They left and she avoided Martin... wouldn't return his calls. As it turns out, Martin had sold his flat in London to pay off his father. He didn't want Joan to know, but of course Christopher would never think to honor his son's wishes."

Louisa sat, dumbfounded. "Why didn't Martin tell me about this?"

"I think that your husband, because of his past experiences, has become a master at hiding any affection that he feels for people."

Louisa went to bed that night thinking about how painful it must have been for Martin as a child, to have had his affections constantly rebuffed, and how reticent he had been about expressing his affections towards her. She was beginning to see life through her husband's eyes.


	46. Chapter 46

Louisa rode to the hospital with Ruth the next morning. Ruth wanted to stop in to see Martin before she had to get back to PortWenn for a previously scheduled meeting with Al and a potential contractor.

Chris had left early that morning and when Ruth and Louisa arrived at Martin's room he was already there, looking through the recent additions to Martin's patient notes. As Louisa started for Martin's bed, she could see that his situation had not improved overnight. He was having to exert to breathe and she could hear a raspy, wheezing sound with each inhalation.

"Good morning," Louisa said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Mm." Martin nodded slightly.

The overnight hospital staff had started him on humidified oxygen in an attempt to raise his blood oxygen level and to thin the secretions in both his lungs and his airways. Even with the mask on his face, Louisa could see how pale he was today.

"Chris, what's the matter?" asked Louisa.

Chris raised a hand up to silence her momentarily while he finished reading through Martin's chart.

"Okay, here's what's going on," he said as he hung the chart back up on the end of the bed. "Martin's lungs have filled with fluid as a result of the pulmonary contusions. He's also dealing with a bacterial infection in his trachea and bronchial tubes. They came in and took x-rays of his lungs and the bruising's worsened as we expected it to. Seventy-two hours is when the severity of the bruising usually peaks... after that time we typically see fairly rapid improvement. So in other words, if we can get him through the day without a ventilator, chances are good that we can avoid using one. The bacterial infection is still a concern, but the hope is that once the bruising begins to recede and breathing gets easier for Martin, his immune system will be able to fight the infection more effectively."

"He seems to be really struggling to breathe, why not a ventilator, Chris?" asked Louisa.

"A ventilator would put pressure on the lungs and could potentially do more damage to the already compromised membranes, so we'll hold off with that unless we think it's absolutely necessary. Ed Christianson's on his way in. When he gets here we'll discuss the options with you and Martin."

Louisa turned her back to her husband, trying to stay in control of her emotions. She wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes, took in a deep breath of air and turned back to her husband.

"I'm sorry, I didn't give you a proper greeting did I?" Louisa said as she leaned over to kiss his head. She could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Ed Christianson entered the room a short time later, walking directly to Martin's bed and pulling out his stethoscope.

"Good morning Martin, not feeling so great today are you?" he said, more as a statement of fact than a question. "Martin, have you been coughing at all?" The doctor put his hand up quickly, "Don't try to answer... has he been coughing at all?" he asked again, this time directing his question to the nurse who had stayed in the room with Martin for the last several hours.

"Some, but he doesn't seem to have enough energy to bring anything up."

"Hmm. Chris, I'm thinking we should get a respiratory therapist in here to suction out his lungs and airways, then try some heliox. Care to share your thoughts?"

"Those actually are my thoughts, I'll get the wheels in motion on that," Chris said hurrying out of the room.

Ed Christianson turned to Louisa, "Maybe we'll step out for just a minute to talk... let Martin rest."

Louisa glanced over at Ruth, seeing the concern on her face as she watched her nephew laboring for every breath. She took hold of the woman's arm and led her out to the corridor with her.

Mr. Christianson flipped his stethoscope around the back of his neck, "Martin's really having to work against both his compromised lung walls and the mucous that has built up in both his lungs and airways. We'll get a respiratory therapist to suction out those secretions and then we'll switch him from oxygen to heliox. Heliox is a blend of oxygen and helium. Helium's lighter than oxygen so it'll be easier for Martin to move than oxygen alone. It'll also create less turbulence in the airways. It's in Martin's best interests to try to get him through the day without a ventilator, so hopefully this will buy us a bit of time," Ed explained.

"Is he getting enough oxygen? He looks very pale," said Louisa.

"His blood oxygen is low right now... at 88%. Not dangerous, but definitely not high enough. We'd like to see that number above 95% so we have a bit of work to do."

Ed could see that he had said nothing to ease concerns so he added, "We'll keep at this awhile longer, but we're not going to take any chances with your husband, Mrs. Ellingham. We'll have him on a ventilator the moment we see a potential danger. And, I know it's terribly hard for the two of you to see him like this. Watching someone struggling for air is gut wrenching, but hang in there with him. Right now the goal is to get him through today, then we should see clearing of those contusions," the man said, nodding reassuringly.

The respiratory therapist arrived while Mr. Christianson was talking with them so Ruth and Louisa waited in the corridor until they had finished up. When they went back into Martin's room he was sleeping and seemed to be laboring less to breathe. Chris returned to the room and informed them that Martin's blood oxygen level was now at 93%.

"He's much more comfortable now and I suspect he'll be asleep for awhile... he probably feels like he's run a marathon or two. There'll be a nurse in here with him constantly so if you'd like to get something hot to drink and a bite to eat this would be a good time."

Ruth and Louisa had a quick lunch together before Ruth headed back to PortWenn. When Louisa returned to Martin he was still sleeping. The respiratory therapist came by again late in the afternoon and suctioned out his lungs and airways again. When Chris came down early that evening to collect Louisa, he was all smiles.

"I just spoke with Ed Christianson... Mart's showing definite improvement. His O2 level is up to 98% and the latest x-rays look clearer. The infection is still a bit of a concern, but we both feel pretty confident that Martin will shake it now that the other problems are clearing up. So... I think we should go and celebrate, we'll take you out for dinner tonight, Louisa."

"This is the first bit of good news I think I've heard in the last three days. And, the first time I've felt myself relax at all! I'd like to have a few minutes with Martin before we go... if you don't mind, Chris."

"Certainly not, I'll go in with you and give him an update."

The Parsons sat with Louisa at a table in the restaurant where she and Martin had eaten after one of their counseling sessions, James in a high chair pounding his spoon on the tray. Fragrant lilies were again gracing the tables.

"Martin mentioned to me that he'd been seeing a therapist, someone to help him sort out some childhood issues. How's it going for him?" Chris asked hesitantly, not wanting to trespass into private issues.

Louisa glanced over at Chris as she was feeding James, "I think it's helped him to remember some things that he might have preferred to keep locked away in that emotional vault of his, but it's been... he looks at some things through different eyes now, admitting some things to himself. He'd spent his entire life thinking that there was something wrong with him, that he deserved what happened to him as a child. Either he deserved it, or there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It's going to take some time for him to accept this altered view of history... I'm surprised he discussed this with you, Chris."

"Yeah, well probably not half as surprised as I was when he brought it up the other day!"

Louisa wiped James' face with the washcloth from his nappy bag. "I'm having to come to terms with the fact that there are many things about Martin that I will never be privy to. I tend to want to know every little detail and... well, like you said Chris, Martin tends not to dwell on things. Maybe if we're blessed with enough years together I'll be able to tease half of what I want to know out of him," she said, smiling at Chris and Carol.

While she had her head turned, James stretched out a chubby hand and grabbed a fistful of spaghetti from his mum's plate and rubbed it in his hair.

"James Henry Ellingham, you little imp!" said Louisa, cleaning her son up for a second time.

Carol laughed at the scene, "You are so obviously your father's son James Henry, but you most certainly did not inherit his penchant for neatness!"

* * *

><p>Tuesday was a blissfully boring day at the Royal Cornwall. Martin was sleeping when Louisa arrived that morning and didn't wake up until after noon. The mask over his face had been replaced by a simple nasal cannula and his breathing sounded normal except for a few rumbling coughs.<p>

Louisa was reading a book in the chair by her husband's bed when he woke up. "Goodmorning," he slurred.

Louisa looked up in surprise, "Well, good morning to you as well...except that it isn't morning anymore," she said looking at her watch. "You look like you're feeling much better today."

"Mm, ismuch easier to breathe."

Martin was still fighting the infection, but his temperature was slightly lower and his blood work showed some signs of improvement as well.

Louisa tried to entertain Martin for awhile, telling him about the dinner the previous evening. She could see the happiness in her husband's eyes as she related his son's antics to him. Martin's energy was quickly depleted by his wife's conversation and he dropped back off to sleep.

Her appetite having returned, Louisa slipped out to grab a quick bite for lunch. When she returned she settled back into her now all too familiar position at his bedside, waiting for him to wake again.

Late in the afternoon he began to stir in his sleep and when she looked up at him he was sweating profusely, his hair damp and moisture running down his temples. Louisa reached out to take his hand but Martin pulled it back quickly when her skin made contact with his. His breathing became rapid and he began to moan softly and he babbled in his sleep.

"Pleasdon', isnot my fault!" Martin began mumbling. "No... I'msscared in there!" His pleas became more impassioned, "I dint do it... isssnot my fault... pleasedon' Mum!"

Louisa tried again to take his hand, but Martin pushed it away forcefully and bolted upright in the hospital bed. He cried out from the pain he triggered in his abdomen and arm with his involuntary movement.

Louisa put her hands on his cheeks and talked to him until she could see he was aware of his surroundings. "Martin, I'm going to get a nurse to check that you haven't injured anything... just stay still."

As Louisa hurried towards the nurses station Chris came around the corner, nearly colliding with her. "Chris, I think Martin may have hurt himself," she said as she raced back to the room.

"What's happened?"

Louisa put her hand on Martin's sweaty back and leaned over to look into his eyes. "He was dreaming and he sat up suddenly in the bed. I think he twisted his arm in the sling... I'm not sure."

The tremors were still rippling through her husband's body as Louisa gently rubbed her husband's back.

"Where does it hurt, Mart?"

Martin's eyes were squeezed shut against the pain he was in. "My arm... anbelly!"

Chris went to the doorway and yelled out to the nurses' desk, "I need a hand in here... NOW!"

Returning to his friend, Chris tried to calm him.

"Let's get you laid back down, Mart," he said as a male nurse moved in to take Louisa's place.

Chris adjusted the morphine drip and waited a few seconds before removing the bandage from Martin's laparotomy incision.

"Okay Mart, let's take a look at that arm and we better check out the thoracotomy wound as well," said Chris, giving Martin a thorough examination.

"Page Mr. Christianson and tell him he's needed here please," Chris said as he looked up at the nurse on the other side of the bed.

"Martin, you've torn a couple of your abdominal sutures. The thoracotomy incision looks good though. Ed will come down and check you out... make sure that arm's okay, but my guess is he'll just butterfly the sutures in your belly. I don't think you've done any serious damage though mate."

Mr. Christianson arrived shortly and assured Louisa that Martin had caused himself pain but aside from the sutures in his abdomen, no real damage had been done.

"Well, the good news here is that his fever has broken. That's why he's so drenched with sweat. We'll draw some more blood and check things out to be sure, but I think you've conquered the infection my friend," said Ed, laying his hand on Martin's head.

"I'll need someone to come in and put dry sheets on the bed and get Dr. Ellingham a dry gown," he said, addressing the nurse.

Martin's torn sutures were replaced with butterfly bandages and he was left to rest up from this most recent trauma.

Martin laid on his back staring at the ceiling.

"Are you alright?" asked Louisa.

"Mm."

Louisa watched Martin as he stared unfocused.

"Martin, please tell me... I know something's bothering you."

Martin hesitated. "I membered something. It wasn't paint... it was blood on the floor... in Dad'sstudy."


	47. Chapter 47

Martin laid on his back staring at the ceiling.

"Are you alright?" asked Louisa.

"Mm."

Louisa watched Martin as he gazed unfocused.

"Martin, please tell me... I know something's bothering you."

Martin hesitated. "I membered something. It wasn't paint. It was blood on the floor... in Dad'sstudy."

Louisa wasn't sure about how to respond to her husband's epiphany. She wondered if this was a real memory or if it might be a product of all that had transpired in the last three days. He had been in a horrendous accident, heavily medicated and was just coming out of a feverish infection.

"Hmm, did you dream this Martin... is that what you were upset about?"

"Yess... but I membered... when I was... when I wassin the car."

"Driving home the other day you mean?"

Martin turned his head slowly to look at her. "In the car... Louissa. When I couln't... I wass trapped," he said, his face impassive.

Louisa held onto Martin's hand, caressing it gently. "After the accident you mean?"

"Mm. I wass trapped... my arm hurt but... I couldn't move it. And I ssmelled something," Martin hesitated before turning his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

"I couln't placce the ssmell... but then I membered. I could feelit...warm n' wet anit spread across my... lap. An' then I membered in Dad'sstudy that day..." Martin tried to swallow back the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Martin, we could talk about this later... maybe you're not ready for this," said Louisa, concerned that the emotional strain could have an adverse effect on Martin's shaky condition.

Martin shook his head, "No... no, Louissa... please jus listen."

"I'm listening Martin. You go ahead, but stop anytime you want."

Martin inhaled deeply before continuing on and the action loosened secretions in his lungs and caused him to cough.

"Are you alright?" asked Louisa as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Mm... I could ssmell the... blood on my troussers... in the car that night. I coul' feelit... warm an wet. An I membered the ssame feeeling in Dad'sstudy that day. I wassitting on the floor an blood wass running on the flooran... arounme... soakingin to my troussers that day, too."

Louisa watched Martin's face, expressionless as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Where was the blood coming from, Martin?"

Martin shook his head slowly, "I don' know. But then Dad came in and... threw me back. He lookdat me... he lookdat me with... hatred. He yellled, 'Martin, whahave you done?' Mum came in ansaid I ruined the flooran my clothes... tha I ruin everything. An' then she locked me in the cupboard. I couln't move an I was laying on my arm an..." Martin's breaths were becoming closer together but he still stared, at the ceiling, his face vacant.

"Martin, I think we should talk about this when you're stronger. You'll remember it later, won't you?" Louisa nodded and smiled encouragingly at him.

"No, no... no, nooo, jus listen!"

"Alright Martin, I'm listening," she said, stroking her fingertips along his forearm.

"I... I could ssmell the blood on my troussers an my arm hurt an it was hard to... harto breath." He rubbed his forehead as he gulped back the emotions threatening to spill out, before refocusing his eyes on the ceiling.

"I fellike I couldn't breath an the ssmell of... the blood started to... make me feel ssick an' I vomited. I was sso scared because I knew Mum..."

Louisa could see tears escape and roll down into his hair but he still stared expressionless.

"I peed myself an... things jus kep getting worse. I could hear voices... other people in the house. After allong time I heard the fron door... annit got quiet. Mum unlocked the cupboard an' opened the door an'..." Martin sucked in several ragged breaths before continuing.

"Um... Mum was disgussted by the mess... I don' blame her. I couln't get outtuv the cupboard... it hurtto mush on my armsso Dad pulled me out by my collaran I fell onto the floor. Mum said to go upsstairs and take a bath an throw... my clothes in the bin. So I did an thenn... I wentto bed."

Louisa sat silent, unable to think of any words that could even begin to relieve the pain she knew Martin was in. She had never felt so helpless. So, she very carefully squeezed her body onto the bed, lying on her side against him. Then putting her arm between them and holding his hand, she nestled her face into his neck.

Chris came by later to pick Louisa up to go home for the night. When he stuck his head in the door he saw his friend sound asleep with a beautiful woman cuddled up next to him in the bed. He slid the door closed quietly and went to the canteen to get a bite to eat.

Louisa woke with a start. She hadn't intended to nod off, but Martin's warmth and the comfort that she felt by his closeness had been tranquilising. She slipped off the bed, trying not to wake her husband but her movements roused him from his slumber.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you," said Louisa as she leaned over to kiss him.

"Mm, issokay."

"Martin, are you going to be alright if I leave you alone tonight? I mean, what you told me a little while ago... I just want to know that you're okay."

Martin reached his hand out to her, "I'll be ffine... if I know you're coming back in the mmorning."

Louisa heard approaching footsteps and turned to look as Chris, Robert and Will Simpson came through the door.

The surgeons greeted Martin and Louisa before turning their attention to Martin's patient notes.

"Hmm, it looks like it's been a bit rough for you the last couple of days, Mart. Doing better now?" asked Robert as he began pulling the blankets back to check Martin's wounds.

"The fection cleared up... an breathing is easier... so yess, I'mm better."

"Good! I think we can proceed as scheduled tomorrow then. Do you have any questions for us... or I guess in your case, advice?"

"Don go out... pick...ling your neurral pathways... tonight."

"Good advice, total abstinence for you, my friend," said Robert, patting Martin's arm while shooting an amused grin at Will.

Will stepped towards his patient's bedside, "We'll be on deck bright and early tomorrow morning. You're scheduled for surgery at half seven."

"How long will Martin be in theatre?" asked Louisa.

"It's hard to be real precise, but I would estimate six to eight hours. We'll remove any additional nonviable tissue, clean things out again and do the internal fixations. We also need to take care of the laceration on Martin's thigh. Then we'll repack everything and bandage him up."

Louisa looked at Will, confused. "What do you mean by repack?"

The wounds will get repacked with the beads and vacuum bandaged, then we'll take him back in a couple of days, remove any additional tissue that doesn't look good and if all goes well, we'll close the wounds at that point in time. Skin grafts down the road are a possibility as well. We'll have to take it a step at a time though, it's very important that we have good clean healthy tissue before we put the finishing touches on the repairs."

Will could see that Louisa was feeling disheartened. "I know that it's difficult to see that any progress has been made, but think back a few days. Martin's much more stable now and we're halfway home on the surgeries."

"Is this surgery going to set Martin back at all?" Louisa asked apprehensively.

"Louisa, Martin's much less likely to develop an infection now than he was two days ago, and the contusions on his lungs won't be a factor this time around. This should be a much easier experience," said Robert, hoping to have eased her anxiety.

Robert went to hang the patient notes back on the end of the bed. "So we'll see you all in the morning then."

"Yes, thank you both... for all that you've done for Martin," said Louisa.

"I should get you home to that son of yours Louisa, and Martin, you need to get some rest... hopefully you can manage that on your own tonight," Chris said, giving his friend a knowing look.

"Yess." Louisa could see Martin's cheeks blush an endearing shade of pink.

"I'll be right with you Chris," Louisa said and watched as he left the room.

Louisa leaned over and pressed her lips to her husband's, "I've been missing you in my bed you know."

"Mm, yes. Me, too. Um, could you give James a hug and a kiss for me?"

"I would be happy to, in fact I'll enjoy it very much." Louisa tapped her index finger on Martin's chest, "You go to sleep and I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight," she said kissing him on the forehead.

* * *

><p>Carol and James accompanied Chris and Louisa to the hospital the following day. Louisa had spent a bit of time with Martin before they came to take him to surgery, but all too soon they asked her to leave so that they could get him prepped and ready to go.<p>

Chris had been indispensable to her in so many ways through the entire ordeal and today was no exception. He had managed to bend the usual rules and regulations about children outside of the I.C.U. waiting area and he stood in the corridor holding James so that his friend could see his son before going to surgery.

Chris came back to the waiting area carrying James.

"Well, we sent your husband off to theatre a happy man. And James is obviously a daddy's boy, I'm afraid he threw a little fit when they wheeled Martin off away from us."

Louisa walked over to take James from Chris, "Did you get to see your daddy, James?"

"Thank you so much for doing that Chris. Martin has been missing his little mate," Louisa said as she returned to settle into the chair next to Carol.

"Well, you two might want to think about doing something fun today. There's nothing that you can do to help Martin right now, Louisa and it would be good for you to get away from this place. Go shopping or whatever it is women do when they go off together. I'm afraid I have a job to get to, but I'll let you know the moment I hear anything from Will and Robert," Chris said before heading down the hallway towards his office.

Louisa and Carol spent the morning shopping for clothes for James before going back to the house for lunch and putting the baby down for a nap. Louisa rested while James slept but she kept thinking about Martin on that operating table yet again. She hoped that the assurances she had received that this procedure would be easier than the others would not turn out to be false promises.


	48. Chapter 48

Louisa began to hear the soft coos and gurgles of baby chatter and she knew they would soon turn into howls of protest if she didn't get James up for his afternoon snack. It seemed that lately he was either eating or sleeping every moment of the day.

Carol was putting a pot roast in the oven for dinner as Louisa sat James in his high chair with his bottle of formula and a bowl of dry cereal.

"Martin should be getting back to his room soon," she said absentmindedly.

Carol glanced over at her friend, "Yep, you're probably anxious to get back to the hospital."

"I am. After the way the last few days have gone... I'm so nervous that my stomach is churning. I hope that Will and Robert are right about things being easier for Martin this time around."

Carol set two glasses of water on the table and sat down across from Louisa. "Robert and Will are very seasoned surgeons, I don't think they would have told you that if they had any misgivings whatsoever."

Carol scrutinised her friend's face. "Is there something else you're worried about?"

Louisa hesitated, "Please don't repeat this to anyone... except for Chris of course, but Martin's been having some long forgotten and less than pleasant childhood memories coming back to him recently. I'm not sure what's triggered it... maybe Joan's death or the worries about me running off on him again. Yesterday, he told me about a memory that came flooding back to him when he was trapped in the car the other night. It's a horrible, horrible memory. I'm really worried about him, Carol. He's trying to deal with so much right now and I just don't know how much he can handled."

Carol ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass, "I can certainly understand why you'd be worried. The strain that you've been under for the last five days would be tough enough to deal with, but if you have these other concerns as well I would imagine you're feeling pretty overwhelmed.

You know, it's unfortunate that Martin comes across as such an abrasive, unfeeling kind of guy. I'm sure it affects how people treat him. In reality, you and I know he's really a very sensitive, shy and soft-hearted fellow. The parents that he had and the whole awful boarding school experience must have made for a very lonely and miserable little Martin. But then, Chris has described his parents to me and, well maybe being shipped off to boarding school was better than the alternative."

Louisa added some bits of cereal to James' bowl. "I've wondered the same thing, but he's had some nightmares about boarding school as well."

Louisa sat quietly for a few moments before asking, "How long have you known Martin?"

"He and Chris were roommates when Chris and I started dating, hmm... must be almost twenty years ago now. Wouldn't have thought it could have been that long... makes me feel old! Martin was a good friend to Chris, he taught him some self-discipline and I'm not sure Chris would have stuck it out through med school if Martin hadn't pushed him. Chris owes him a lot."

"Well, I think Chris has repaid him in full and then some! I hate to think of how much worse the last days would have been for Martin and me if we hadn't had you and Chris by our side every step of the way. We'll be forever grateful.

"We've been happy to have had the opportunity to help. Well, I know that you're anxious so let's go see that man of yours!"

Chris had called Louisa shortly before they left the house to tell her that Martin was out of surgery and would be returned to I.C.U. shortly. Louisa hadn't been back at hospital for more than a few minutes before she heard the door slide open and they pushed Martin's bed into the room. It took the nursing staff awhile to get him settled. They had to get his legs positioned properly, his arm back into the sling that kept it elevated, and ice packed around his injured limbs. Finally, the I.V.s needed to be adjusted. The epidural catheter had been removed when they were prepping him for surgery as it was felt to be no long necessary.

_Martin tried to shake the medically induced fog from his brain as he listened to the muffled voices around him. His limbs began to ache as he felt them being shifted. He couldn't make sense of where he was and he tried to open his eyes but it felt as though they had been glued shut. _

_He strained to hear what was being said by the people in the room, but their voices were being gradually drowned out by the harsh and belittling voice of his father. **'You'd have to drug em to keep em! You never did have any financial nous! Grow a backbone, boy... what are you going to do, let people bully you all your life?'** _

_Martin tried to open his eyes, to erase his fathers sneering face and mocking laugh from his consciousness. '**You want to know why this happened? Because I have a son who lacks even an ounce of sense, that's why!' **_

Louisa sat down by the bed to begin another anxious waiting game. There was a soft tap on the door before it rolled open and Chris walked in.

"Well, I guess I'm not going to get a look at how things came out today," Chris said pointing to the packing of ice and bandage material around Martin's arm and legs. "Any sign he could be coming around?"

"No, nothing at all yet. Chris, will he be in pain again when he wakes up this time?"

Chris could see the anxiety in Louisa's body language. "I would imagine he will be. They've done a lot of manipulating of those limbs and performed very invasive surgery. We'll try to get on top of it right away though, pain has an adverse effect on a patient's recovery so we want to make Mart as comfortable as possible."

_Martin had to get away from his father and tried desperately to run, but his legs wouldn't move. They felt heavy, as if someone was holding them down. _

_His father's derisive remarks continued as the man gripped Martin by the hand, pulling him towards him. **Fine, don't enlist! You'll be doing the Navy a favor. They need men made of sterner stuff than** **you are, boy. You'd never be able to cut it!** Martin tried to pull his hand away. _

Louisa felt Martin's fingers twitch in her hand as he mumbled incoherently. "I think he's waking up, Chris," said Louisa.

_His father gripped his hand tighter as he looked him up and down, his eyes filled with disgust. **Look at you, putting piss** **onto pieces of paper... playing at doctors in Port Wenn!** Martin jerked his arm back, lashing out forcefully at the man._

Louisa rubbed Martin's hand as he began to rouse. He pulled away from her, flinging his arm out wildly, dislodging the catheter in his wrist.

"Whoa, Mart. You're going to hurt yourself mate," Chris said as he reached across the bed to grasp the bleeding wound in his friend's arm. "Louisa, please call for a nurse."

Chris pushed a now struggling Martin back down onto the bed, "Martin, you need to open your eyes. Come on, wake up Mart!"

The insistent voice of his friend broke through the fog and Martin opened his eyes.

"Are you with me now, Mart?" asked Chris.

Martin pushed his head back into the pillow as pain shot through his left leg. A nurse hurried in and slid gauze pads under Chris' hand, pressing down on Martin's wrist until the bleeding stopped.

Martin groaned loudly as the pain in his arm and legs intensified.

"Mart, we need to get a new drip going, then we can get some morphine into you. Hang in there, mate."

Chris looked up as another nurse entered the room, "Page Mr. Dashwood and Mr. Simpson, please."

Louisa slipped back in next to her husband as soon as the nurse had finished inserting the new I.V. She took her husband's hand in hers, "Martin, you need to lay still."

Robert arrived first and got the morphine drip going again and adjusted it so that Martin was receiving a higher dose.

"Hey Martin, Chris tells me there was some unruly behaviour and you pulled out your other drip. How are you doing now?"

"Mmmrrr," Martin grimaced and released a slow groan. "It hhurts."

"Okay, where are you on the scale? Can you tell me that?"

"Eightaaaaw"

Martin grabbed for his injured arm, desperate to relieve himself of the pain. Robert pulled Martin back and held him down on the bed.

"That sounds like more than an eight," Robert said as he allowed more analgesia to drip into his friend's arm.

Martin's struggle with his surgeon slowed as the medication began to suppress his central nervous system.

"Can I trust you to lay still Martin... can I let you go now?"

"Yess, where's my wife?"

"She's right here," Robert said, signaling for her to come over.

Louisa wiped the tears from her face then walked to her husband's side.

"Are you doing better now?" she asked.

Martin closed his eyes and nodded his head. "I'm ssorry. I upset you."

"That's okay, I'm better if you're better," Louisa said as she sat down beside him.

Martin looked at her sympathetically, "This should be the worss of it... thingss should get bedder now."

Martin could see the fatigue and tension on his wife's face and he felt guilty for the burden this was putting on her. He was tired of doctors, tired of feeling like he couldn't focus or think straight, tired of seeing the same four walls every time he woke up, tired of the constant setbacks. He wanted this to all be over, the pain, the fear, the stress. Seeing Louisa so upset sank his spirits. Martin longed for home.


	49. Chapter 49

Louisa slipped out of the room once Martin had fallen back to sleep. She needed to give Carol an update and she felt an overwhelming need to hold her son.

James was beginning to tire of the games that Carol had been entertaining him with and began to kick his legs and squeal when he saw his mother coming towards him.

"James! Are you having a good time with Carol?"

Carol handed James to his mum. "He's really needing some freedom to move, but I haven't wanted to let him down on the hospital floor."

"Martin would thank you for that!"

"How's he doing?" asked Carol.

"Argh, is there anywhere private in this building where I can go to have a good cry?"

"Not so great then?"

"He's sleeping right now, but when he first woke up he managed to pull his I.V. out, which of course bled like crazy. Your dear husband reached across the bed and grabbed his wrist to control it until a nurse came in and took over with his care. Then he was in a lot of pain. He was grabbing at his injured arm and..." Louisa took in a deep breath before continuing, "Robert tried to pull his hand back but eventually had to hold him down until the morphine took effect."

"Oh, Louisa! That must have been hard to watch," said Carol as she fished in her purse for a tissue.

"It was. Martin saw how upset I was and I don't think it helped his spirits at all. I feel so absolutely useless to him right now. I couldn't be of any help to him today and I couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make him feel any better yesterday."

"Ah, is that why you crawled into bed with him?"

Louisa shot her a quick glance.

"Sorry, Chris told me," Carol said, smiling apologetically.

"Mmm, that's okay. It explains Chris' remark to Martin yesterday afternoon!"

"Um, would you mind waiting here with James for a bit, I'd like to go say a quick hello to your husband."

"That's fine, but he's probably still sleeping," Louisa said, bouncing James on her knee.

"I won't wake him if he is."

Carol slid the door of Martin's room open quietly and stepped in. Martin had his eyes closed and appeared to be sleeping so she turned to leave.

"Carol, don't go," said Martin when he heard her movements.

"Sorry Martin, I didn't want to wake you."

"Thass okay."

"Not such a great afternoon I hear," she said walking over to his bed.

"No... an' I upset Louisa, I think."

Carol straightened out the covers and pulled them up under Martin's chin a bit more.

"Martin, you need to focus on getting well, try not to worry about Louisa. Chris and I are taking good care of her... making sure she's eating well, getting to bed at a decent hour and we're both happy to listen if she needs to talk. And, she has been talking. Seeing you suffering is just going to be tough for her to watch, but I'm afraid there's no getting around it... for either of you. She needs to feel that she's helping you in some way, and I know that you need her to _help_ you."

"Mmm."

"Well, I mainly wanted to come in and say hello. I'll go and let you get some sleep." Carol leaned over and kissed Martin on the cheek before walking towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing," she said as she returned to his bedside, leaning over to whisper into his ear. "Be nice to the nurses!"

"Yess."

Carol picked James up in the waiting room to take him home with her and Louisa stayed at the hospital with her husband.

Martin was asleep when Louisa returned to his room and didn't wake until almost six that evening.

"Hey, Mart! I'm surprised to see you awake," Chris said when he came to take Louisa home. "How are you doing, pain any better?"

"Maybe a bit."

"Hmm. I have some news that I think you'll be happy to hear," said Chris as he tapped a rhythm on the bed rail. "The investigatory committee decided to continue the funding for our air ambulance."

The corners of Martin's mouth turned up slightly, "Thass very good news."

"You can take full credit, Martin. That damn committee stood in the ED Friday night listening to the whole rescue operation play out over the dispatch radio. Most of the committee members had made their minds up before they left Royal Cornwall that night. I should have known better than to tell my literal friend here that I needed him to make a convincing argument to that committee about the need for our air ambulance," Chris said giving Louisa a smile.

Louisa returned a feeble grin. "Well, I guess if we were looking for a silver lining in all of this securing the air ambulance funding would be it."

"The other bit of news I have is that the preliminary investigation of your accident points to driver error as the cause. The report said that the lorry driver hadn't slept in more than thirty-six hours and that he'd fallen asleep when he drifted into you, Mart. There were two witnesses to the accident, and the tire tracks, measurements... everything corroborated what the witnesses said happened."

Martin's memory of the accident had been sketchy so this information came as a huge relief. He closed his eyes and blew out a long breath of air.

"Well Mart," said Chris. 'Are you ready to give your wife back to Carol and I for the night?"

"Mmm, yes. But, can I have a few minutesswith her before you leave?"

"Of course. Louisa, I'll be outside. And Mart, I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

Martin waited until Chris had slid the door shut before reaching his hand out to his wife.

"Louissa... I'm sorry for all of this."

"Martin Ellingham, don't you dare apologise for being hurt. None of this is your fault."

"Yess, but I don' like to see you... unhappy."

"Neither of us is very happy right now Martin, so I guess we'll muddle through together until we get past this... right?" she said, taking his face in her hands and stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.

"Yes. How does Jamess seem to be doing?"

"He's just fine. He really seems to like Carol... and I think the feeling is mutual."

Martin toyed with the edge of the blanket. "Chris wouldn't let me touch him."

"You mean in the corridor before your surgery?"

"Mm hmm. He wouldn't come very close."

Louisa gave Martin a small smile. "He just didn't want to risk you catching something from him."

"But, James isn't likely to be carryingany thing contagious as he's..."

Louisa placed her index finger against Martin's lips. "Shush. You're just going to have to follow some rules while you're here."

"Yess."

Louisa leaned over, kissing him gently. "I better not keep Chris waiting. You get lots of sleep tonight and maybe you'll feel better in the morning!"

Martin dreaded the nights. He couldn't sleep well, and he was too alone with his thoughts. This night was no different, as he replayed his father's words in his head. What did he mean when he told him that something had happened because he had a son who lacked even an ounce of sense? Martin could now remember hearing those words said to him as a child, but he couldn't connect them to any incident. Had he been the cause of something bad?

He tried to forget the words and get some rest, but even in his sleep those words haunted him.

Physically, Martin was feeling noticeably better the next morning. Ed Christianson stopped in to check up on his patient before starting in with rounds with his interns.

"Your vital signs and blood gases all look good this morning. We've also been able to scale back a bit on the morphine, but don't hesitate to say if you're needing more. I don't anticipate anymore unexpected trips to theatre with you so I think we could let you eat something. Do you think you could keep some food down, Martin?"

"Mm, I'm not really hungry."

"Maybe not, but we need to be trying to get you off the *parenteral nutrition. What do you think you might be able to eat?"

"I don't like hospital food."

"Sorry, Martin. That's all I've got."

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "I don't care then, bring whatever you like."

Martin's mood was souring quickly when Louisa arrived a bit later.

"Mmm, that looks good!" she said as she walked into the room and spied the bowl of oatmeal and side of toast on the tray in front of her husband. "How's my boy this morning? Must be doing better if they're letting you eat something."

Martin gave her an uncivil grunt before pushing the untouched tray away.

"It's a wonder patients get out of hospitals at all," Martin grumbled.

"Oh, Martin. Just eat it... please... for me," Louisa said.

He looked up at her as she watched him with hopeful eyes. "It's insipid tosh," he mumbled as he pulled the tray back and reluctantly spooned some of the gray gelatinous matter into his mouth, grimacing accordingly.

Chris stopped in a short time later and Martin was still curmudgeoning about hospital food.

"I take it you weren't happy with your breakfast?" Chris said, peering up at his friend as he flipped through patient notes.

"He didn't eat much I'm afraid," said Louisa, already looking sapped by her husband's foul mood.

"What exactly is that you're wanting, Mart? Monkfish- no butter?"

"I wouldn't complain!" Martin said, rubbing his forehead.

Chris cocked his head at him, "Are you having a headache?"

"Yes!"

"It's probably the change in your morphine dose. I'll talk to Ed about getting you something for that."

"Thank you," Martin answered begrudgingly.

"You're welcome," Chris said, eyeing his friend askance.

"Um, Louisa, could you give Martin and me a few minutes?"

Louisa hesitated, "Sure, I'll run down and get myself a cup of coffee."

Chris pulled a chair up next to the bed."Okay, what's the problem Mart?" he asked after the door had closed behind Louisa.

Martin inhaled deeply and blew out a long frustrated breath.

Chris tipped his head at his friend, "Mart... what's going on?"

"It's complicated."

Slouching down in the chair, Chris folded his arms across his chest and crossed his ankles. "Well, I'm not the freakin' genius you are but I suspect if I tried really hard I might be able to keep up with you. So, let's hear it."

Martin cleared his throat, "I've been having a lot of nightmares lately... well, for awhile now. Really memories from my childhood... things I'd forgotten about."

"Bad memories then?"

"Mm hmm. When I was trying to wake up yesterday I kept hearing my father's voice, all the belittling things he used to say. Most of it I had remembered before, but one thing I remembered only yesterday. I must have asked about why something had happened because Dad said, _You want to know why this happened? Because I have a son who lacks even an ounce of sense, that's why! _But, I can't remember what happened."

Chris uncrossed his arms and sat up in his chair. "So it bothers you that you can't remember?"

"It bothers me that I don't know what happened... if I did something terrible!"

"Why would you think you'd done something terrible? The way your dad was, it could have been something purely benign that he was upset about."

"Mm, could be, but..."

"But... what?" Chris asked, furrowing his brow.

"I had another memory the other day and I'm worried that the two might be related."

"Go on, Mart."

"I... I. Dad got angry with me once, when I was seven. I don't have a complete memory of what happened, but I was in Dad's study and terrified of something, then I was hanging on to something. I remembered the other day that I was sitting on the floor and blood was trickling towards me. It was soaking into my trousers... then Dad came in and tried to pull me away from what I was hanging onto, but I had a death grip on it. He grabbed me by the arm, yanked me off and threw me back behind him. When he yanked on my arm it broke. There's more to that memory but I don't think the rest is relevant to what I remembered yesterday."

Chris rubbed his hand down his face, "Jeez Martin, I am so sorry!"

"I don't want your pity Chris!" Martin said angrily, turning his head away from his friend.

"Don't worry, mate... you're not the pitiful type. So... you're worried that you might have hurt someone? Mart... it's just not in you!"

"I don't know what's in me anymore," Martin mumbled. "I've tried so hard to remember and it's not coming to me... I'm frustrated, and worried."

Chris leaned forward to put his hand on his friend's arm, "I don't know what else to say Mart, it just **_is not_** in you to do anything like what I think you're worrying about!"

"Mm, hope not."

* * *

><p>*Nutrition given through I.V. fluids.<p> 


	50. Chapter 50

Louisa glanced uncomfortably across at Chris as they drove home that evening. She was not only curious about what Chris and Martin had talked about earlier, but also slightly jealous. Was there something that her husband could talk to his friend about that he couldn't discuss with her?

"How do you think Martin's doing, Chris?" Louisa asked.

"His crankiness is probably a good sign that his physical health is improving. Will and Robert get back to Truro tonight and are planning to check in on him around six tomorrow morning. If they think he seems ready, they'll take him into theatre around half seven. It'll be a big day... having those wounds finally closed."

"Mm, yes it will

"Something bothering you, Louisa?" Chris asked, noticing her fingers gripping her purse strap.

"Martin was so irritable today and I'm just worried... I've been worried about how he's been doing with everything, mentally."

Chris squirmed in his seat. He didn't know how much of the information that was shared today Martin wanted passed on to Louisa.

"Well, he's beginning to feel well enough to be more aware of things going on around him...the long days for one thing, and the poking and prodding of the doctors and nursing staff... and the effect that all of this is having on you and James, as well as Ruth. I'm sure he's probably been thinking about what lies ahead for the two of you, and he's no doubt feeling a bit discouraged."

Louisa was feeling frustrated that she wasn't getting the information she was hoping for from her husband's friend. She knew that she was prying into a private conversation, but she was imagining the worst possible scenarios at the moment.

"Chris, I'm sorry but I have to ask... what were you and Martin talking about?"

Chris pulled the car into his driveway and shifted it into park. "Louisa, maybe you should ask Martin about it. I suspect he'll tell you anyway. I don't want to betray a confidence."

"It's just that I'm imagining the worst right now. And I might not have a chance to talk with Martin until Saturday... he'll be in surgery tomorrow!"

"Alright, Louisa. Did Martin tell you about what he remembered the other day... from his childhood?"

"Yes, did he share that with you?"

"He did... and evidently he remembered something else when he was trying to come out of the anaesthesia yesterday. Something that he remembers his father saying to him... he's worried that he could have hurt someone when he was young, hurt someone seriously. It's eating at him."

Louisa looked at Chris in disbelief, "Martin could never hurt anyone! Not physically anywa... "

"What is it Louisa?"

"Mm, it's just... a few weeks ago Martin had a confrontation with a man. Well, the man is a patient of Martin's... an alcoholic. Martin had stopped at the man's farm for a medical reason and he found the man had physically abused his son... broke the boy's arm. When Martin tried to get the man to sign a parental release form so that he could take the boy to Truro for x-rays the man went off, calling his son a bastard, saying the boy deserved what he got. Martin was terribly upset when he got home that night because he had hit the man... knocked him to the ground, and would have done more than that if the police constable hadn't been there to intervene. Do you suppose that incident has added to Martin's worries?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not sure what to think, but I do know that what you just told me doesn't sound like Martin at all. I'm rather shocked to hear about it."

"Oh dear, I shouldn't have said anything should I... you'll have to report this now. Chris, this all occured about the time that these memories were coming back to him and I think that seeing that little boy hurt the way that Martin had been hurt by his own father made him react defensively. Please don't report this."

"No, no. It's old news now. So, are you feeling better about the conversation I had with Mart?"

"I think so. I'm still going to be anxious to talk to him about it though."

"Yes, well we better get inside or Carol's going to be interrogating me about our conversation out here on the driveway!"

* * *

><p>Friday was a big day. If all went according to plan, Martin's wounds would finally be closed and allowed to healed. Robert and Will had arrived in Truro the night before and were in Martin's room shortly after six a.m.<p>

"Are you ready to get this over and done with Martin?" Robert asked.

"Mm, I'm feeling a bit nervous about it."

"Don't worry, we're going to take very good care of you my friend, but let's get some *midazolam in you. That should make all your worries go away. Any questions before we muddle your head?"

Martin shook his head, "Just get this done... and um, thank you for all you've done to put me back together... both of you."

"We didn't hesitate when Chris called us last week Martin. Glad we could help."

A nurse came in a few minutes later and added the midazolam to Martin's drip and by the time Chris and Louisa came through the door of Martin's room he was feeling much more relaxed.

"Good morning," Louisa said as she kissed his forehead.

"Good morning, I missed you," Martin said, reaching for her hand.

Louisa pulled a chair up next to him, "Well, you'll finally get those wounds closed up today and maybe they'll let you out of I.C.U. soon!"

"Yes, that'll be progress. Maybe they'd let James come to visit, too," Martin said, looking at Chris. "You could do that couldn't you Chris... get James in to see me?"

"Hm, let's just wait and see on that, okay? I can't make you any promises."

Martin shifted his gaze back to his wife and Louisa watched as his expressive eyes softened into a look of pure adoration. "Louisa, you are lovely, absolutely beautiful. Isn't she beautiful, Chris?" he said turning to look at his friend.

"Yes Martin, she is. You're very lucky, mate." he said, glancing at Louisa with a look of amusement. Louisa looked back at Chris, puzzled by her husband's out of character behaviour.

"I see you've had the midazolam."

"Mmm," Martin said, staring fixedly at his wife.

"Louisa," Martin said, reaching his hand out for hers. "You never gave me that proper kiss. I was thinking about that proper kiss you said you'd give me that night... you said at the school. I was thinking about it on the way home but then I had an accident."

"I tell you what," Chris interjected, "Why don't I step out and give you two a little time before they come to take Martin to theatre."

"Thank you Chris," Louisa said. "I'll see you in the waiting area."

Louisa turned her attention back to her husband, "Now, what was it that you were saying about a proper kiss?"

"Mmm, just that I never got one... I had an accident and..."

Louisa leaned over and gave Martin a truly proper kiss.

"Oh, Louisa," Martin said hoarsely. "I love you so very much you know."

"Yes, Martin... I do know."

She brushed her fingers through his hair and leaned in close to talk to him. "Do you know that I love you very much, too?"

"Do you?" Martin said groggily.

"Yes, Martin Ellingham, I do."

"Louisa, I've been wanting to tell you... um, thank you for my letter... the one with the reasons. I'll treasure it."

"Oh Martin, I'm so glad. You most certainly do deserve me. But, I see they're coming to take you to theatre now so I better say goodbye until later."

"Mmm, could I have one more proper kiss first?"

"Mm hmm."

This surgical procedure went much more quickly and Louisa was surprised when she saw Chris walk into the waiting area to apprise her of how things had gone.

"He'll be back in his room soon so let's talk on the way," said Chris.

"Well, everything looks good for the most part. Robert's not entirely happy with the end result of the arm so I suspect he'll be discussing doing a skin graft down the road with you."

"Oh," said Louisa, a glimmer of apprehension crossing her face.

"Don't worry about it at this point, just take things one step at a time.

They put drains in both legs and the arm to try to prevent Martin from developing something called compartment syndrome. Edema, or fluid build-up in the cells, as well as bleeding in the soft tissue can cause pressure to build up in a muscle compartment. This can lead to very serious and painful complications."

Louisa could feel her chest tighten with anxiety, thinking about the possibility of another setback for her husband.

"How long will the drains stay in, Chris?"

"About forty-eight hours. Martin's progress will be assessed at the time anyway, and if all looks good the drains will come out. By the way, the thoracotomy drains may come out tomorrow. Mr. Christianson will make that call."

Chris and Louisa arrived at the room just ahead of Martin. He was already beginning to wake a bit when they wheeled him through the door.

"Hi Martin, I'm here," said Louisa, taking her husband's hand.

Martin turned his head towards her voice, looking at her through the haze of the drugs in his system. He tried to focus his eyes on her but the image danced around in his head, making him feel nauseous.

Louisa watched as Martin's eyes drifted shut again and he moaned softly.

The surgeons stopped in momentarily, checking their patient's vital signs and verifying that all the specifications passed on to the nursing staff had been done completely and correctly.

Robert walked over and adjusted Martin's drip. "Well Louisa, I guess we'll turn him back over to you. Will and I have to be in theatre later this afternoon so we're going to be leaving. Mr. Christianson and Chris over here," he said, nodding in his friends' direction, "will be in charge of follow-up care. They'll contact us immediately if they foresee any problems."

"Thank you very much Robert. You too, Will. I can't begin to tell you how much Martin and I appreciate all that you've done to provide him with the best outcome possible," said Louisa.

Will leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles. "Martin still has a lot of work to do to get full use back of those limbs, but things are looking much better than we ever would have thought possible a week ago."

Louisa looked at Will, her eyes hopeful. "Do you really think he can get back to where he was before the accident?"

"We'll have to see about _that_, but I feel pretty sure that with work, he'll end up with fully functioning limbs. Surgeon level functioning... I guess that's possible. Just remember, encourage but don't push your husband. He's come a long way. I don't think any of us felt very confident that Martin would survive his injuries a week ago."

Louisa looked at Will taken aback, "I didn't realise Martin's injuries were that severe... I mean, I knew that he had been seriously injured but..."

Robert walked over and leaned on the bed rail, "Louisa, do you remember when I was talking to you about the effects of shear forces... that organs of differing densities travel at different rates of speed causing the less dense organs to pull away from the denser tissues surroun..."

Robert's mini-physics dissertation was interrupted by his patient, "No, no...nooo. Desity has no effec... on the spee an objec traa..vels. Gali...leo had tha figurr... figurred ou five hunred yearrs agoo, Roberd. The sof tissues pull awaay... frrom the more rishid cardila...shenous an bony tissues. _Thas_ shear... forsh."

"Somebody give this clever Dick some more midazolam!" Robert said, chuckling.

* * *

><p>*midazolam- Also known as Versed in the U.S.- AI- this is likely the medication that would have made Louisa 'fuzzy' before her AVM surgery.<p> 


	51. Chapter 51

Martin was awake off and on throughout the afternoon. He was uncomfortable but not in severe pain as he had been with the previous procedures and for that Louisa was very thankful. There had been many times over the last difficult days that she had wished she could share in her husband's suffering so that he wouldn't have to endure it on his own.

She sat by his bed watching him sleep and a smile came to her face when she thought about how sweet and very expressive he had been before they took him to theatre today. How very difficult it ordinarily was for her husband to express himself in that way. It seemed to be only in times of desperation or distress that he could lower the wall that he had built over the course of his life. Martin's emotions were only revealed in moments of impulsivity... genuine just the same but not an intentional sharing of feelings.

There was a short period of time before their wedding and even a few weeks after it when Martin seemed more relaxed, more open. But as the weeks progressed he began to fortify that emotional wall. Louisa thought back on those weeks wondering what might have caused him to push her away again.

The day of their wedding had gone better than she could have ever hoped. The smile returned to her face as she recalled how pleasantly surprised she had been when Martin extended his hand to her before shyly leading her to the dance floor. In that moment her heart was filled with pride. Pride in her husband for overcoming his shyness and social awkwardness to do something to make her happy.

Then came the great catastrophe that was their honeymoon. If only Martin had remembered to open that damper... Ah, and the cold, wet, miserable walk through the forest... or wood as Martin would remind her that it 'technically' was. She laughed silently as she recalled his false bravado, threatening what turned out to be a horse. She could picture his face, how startled he had been. But then again, she had been as well. A feeling of guilt came over Louisa as she realised how mocking she had been of his efforts to protect her and how hurt she could tell he had been by it. It was only a short while later that he was carrying her across that icy cold stream so that she didn't have to get her feet wet, putting her down safely on the other side.

Things would have been so different if they had not misunderstood one another about a honeymoon. Why didn't Martin tell her that he would have been open to the idea if it was what she wanted? Why couldn't the man just tell her what he was thinking! She replayed the conversation that they had in the wood in her head.

_Can I say something?_

**_NO!_**

_I think you're being unfair._

**_Oh. Right! Thank__ you_**.

_Because you say one thing when you mean another. You agree to something when actually you want something else. It doesn't make sense._

Why did she say no to him when he asked to talk to her? Wasn't that her chief complaint... that he doesn't talk? And then when he said she was being unfair, she could have asked him to explain what he meant instead of cutting him off again.

Martin was right, it didn't make any sense. She wanted a honeymoon and if she had told him so instead of making him guess at what she wanted (this is Martin we're talking about here after all! Be reasonable!) then they could have come to a compromise on the details... perhaps.

Martin began to cough and it woke him from his sleep. "Are you okay?" Louisa asked worriedly as Martin tried to stifle a groan.

"Mm hmm. I'm fine, don't worry," he said, trying to get his eyes to open completely. "What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Almost half five. Chris will be coming by soon I suppose. I called Ruth to let her know how your surgery had gone today and she said to tell you that she'd be coming over tomorrow."

Martin watched his wife as she watched him and sighed heavily. "Louisa, we need to talk about what to do from this point on. You have your job, and James should be with his mum... and..."

Louisa cocked her head at him, "And what Martin?"

"They'll probably start physical therapy tomorrow and maybe it would be best if you weren't here for that," Martin said fidgeting nervously with his blanket.

"I actually think it would be good if I could see what they do with you. Maybe I could help you with it when you get home."

Martin swallowed hard, "Louisa, I'm a doctor... I know what this entails. It won't be enjoyable to watch, at least at first, and I can't see you upset anymore. I'm sorry."

Louisa furrowed her brow, trying to process what he had just said. "I don't need to be entertained, or... what are you saying?"

Martin rubbed his tired eyes, then his forehead, trying to soothe the pounding headache that he woke up with. "Physical therapy is painful after injuries like this, at least at first. I don't want you to... I mean, you've watched me moan and groan all week and that's not... it's not how I want you to see me."

"I'm not sure that I understand Martin. Are you saying that you don't want me here anymore?"

He rubbed his forehead harder, then slapped his hand down on the bed. "I just don't want you to see me like that... please!"

Louisa wasn't understanding her husband. She'd been by his side all week. She'd gazed at his broken body and wiped the tears from his face when the pain had been so intense that he cried. She'd held his hand when he needed reassurance... when he was afraid. Why this sudden discomfort with her presence?

"Could we talk about this later, Martin... tomorrow, when maybe you feel a bit better?"

"NO! I want to have this understood between us before tomorrow... I **don't** want you here during my therapy!"

Louisa felt the tears welling up in her eyes. "Fine Martin! That's just fine!" she said, grabbing her purse and storming towards the door.

Martin closed his eyes and blew out a long breath, trying to calm himself. "Louisa, come back!" Martin wanted to apologise but she was already gone.

A few minutes later the door to Martin's room slid open and two nurses came in to roll him over. He clenched his teeth together to prevent the groans from escaping. The only remotely comfortable position for him was on his back, but he had to spend at least part of the day on his left side. The fixators made this rather miserable, even with pillows to support and cushion the sensitive areas. Now that they had cut back on the morphine, Martin was much more aware of the smaller discomforts, and had more time awake in which to be annoyed by them. He couldn't sleep the day away in a drug induced oblivion anymore.

There was someone in his room constantly it seemed, adding something to his I.V, taking out an old I.V. that had passed it's "sell by date" before starting a new one in a different vein, changing the bandages on his wounds, wanting him to eat... It was all wearing on his nerves and contributing greatly to his increasingly foul mood. He'd been trying to be on his best behaviour for Louisa's sake, but he knew that he would disappoint her once the physical therapy started tomorrow. He was afraid that he couldn't keep up the facade much longer and soon the anger and frustration inside of him would boil over with a vengeance.

Martin closed his eyes that night feeling the lowest he had since the whole nightmare began. He had hurt Louisa yet again. Would she come back tomorrow? He fell into a fitful sleep, his slumber repeatedly interrupted by disturbing dreams. Voices taunting him... his father's contemptuous remark, "You'd have to drug em to keep em"... the sadness in Louisa's voice as she told him that she didn't want to see him anymore, and his mother's vindictive, "You better get used to being on your own!" Images haunted him... watching the farm buildings grow smaller and smaller as his father drove him away in the car, ever farther from the love and security of Auntie Joan... sitting at the train station waiting to be taken away to live with strangers in an unfamiliar boarding school... watching as Louisa walked down Roscarrock Hill and apart from him.

Martin tried to roll over to get comfortable in bed, but he couldn't move his legs. He drifted back into semi-consciousness. Louisa was holding his hand, comforting him. "I don't want you here!" he yelled pulling back away from her. He watched her face... the hurt in her eyes, before she turned to run away from him. He ran after her, calling for her to stop. His legs began to crumble beneath him and he fell to the ground, watching as she ran into the path of an oncoming car. Then, he heard the sickening thud. He tried to drag himself to her but his arm began to give way, turning into a useless piece of rubber.

Martin woke suddenly, his heart racing and perspiration dampening his brow. The door to his room opened and a nurse hurried in to check on him. "I'm sorry if I woke you Dr. Ellingham. The alarm on your heart monitor went off. She took hold of Martin's wrist, noting his damp skin. "Your heart is racing, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Martin said, trying to catch his breath and feeling somewhat chagrined.

"Ah, a bad dream," she said understandingly.

"Mm."

"Well, you've been through a lot in the last week. All that stress and the emotions are going to come out one way or another," she said gently rubbing his arm. "Do you think you can sleep now? I can leave the light on if you like."

"No, I'm fine," Martin said as he felt his pounding heart begin to slow.

"Alright. I'll be right outside here if you need me. Goodnight, Dr. Ellingham," she said as she slid the door closed.

Martin laid in bed, unable to get back to sleep. He felt a desperate need to hold his wife.


	52. Chapter 52

Louisa hurried away from Martin's room and ducked into the lavatory down the hall. After splashing cold water on her eyes and getting herself under control she headed down the corridor towards Chris' office. He was taken by surprise when he heard a knock and looked up to see his friend's wife standing in the doorway.

"Louisa! Come in... please." Chris could see that she had been crying. "What's the matter? Did something happen with Martin?"

"Yes." she said, trying to remain composed. "Well, no... not in the way you think. He said he doesn't want me here, Chris. I don't understand why. He said something about physiotherapy tomorrow and he doesn't want me here for that. He doesn't want me to see him... think of him in that way." Louisa couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

Chris walked over and pulled the door shut.

"Louisa, have a seat please," Chris gestured towards the sofa then pulled a chair up next to her. He took in a deep breath, "We've cut back on Mart's morphine and he's just now becoming fully aware of what's happened to him... the severity of his injuries. He's going to need a bit of time to get his head around it all."

Louisa sat shaking her head, "No, it's more than that. He said that the physiotherapy will be painful and he doesn't want me to see him in pain anymore... he doesn't want to see me upset."

"Yes, I can see why he might feel that way. I know that he's been worried about the stress that all of this has put on you. I'm not sure that you can be of much help to him during these therapy sessions and I'm afraid your presence could be a distraction to him. He'll have to focus all of his energy on dealing with the pain from the range of motion and strengthening exercises."

Chris handed Louisa a box of tissues. "Keep in mind that Martin is extremely uncomfortable right now. Up to this point, the morphine's made the pain from the obvious injuries easier to deal with, but it's also masked less serious injuries that he no doubt sustained in the accident... contusions, cuts, abrasions... general aches and pains that are a result of the unnatural and forceful movements of his body in the crash. And, it's common for less serious injuries to be missed initially because our attention is focused on the life threatening problems. We say in cases like Martin's that we have to play catch up for awhile. We do what has to be done today and take care of the next problems when they show themselves. So, I'm saying that Martin's pain may be less severe now but it's also constant now and that's very tiring and stressful."

"But there must be some way that I can be of help to him. I can't just leave him here on his own," Louisa said wiping at her eyes with a tissue.

"Much of Martin's time will be spent working with the physiotherapist. When he's not with the therapist he'll probably be exhausted... needing to rest. And, Louisa... there's something else that you may not have considered. Martin may feel like he needs to be a protector... be able to physically defend you and James should the need arise, especially given his past history. And he's probably feeling rather diminished in that area right now. To have you watching him struggle to even be able stand on his own two feet..."

"I don't care about that, Chris! That doesn't matter to me! We don't _need_ that from him."

"I understand that," Chris said nodding his head. "But this is about what _Martin_ needs right now. It has to be. And Martin realises that he needs to focus one hundred percent on physical therapy at this time. You can help him most by holding down the fort at home. Martin's moving into a different phase in his recovery and his needs will be different... what he needs from you is going to be different . Make sure that he feels certain that you're there for him in whatever way he needs you to be."

Louisa sat turning her wedding band back and forth on her finger, "Hmm. I hadn't considered all of this. He's not saying that he doesn't want me around anymore, he's saying that he can't have me here for the time being, but that he does need me to take care of James and things at home so that he doesn't have to worry about anything other than getting well."

"Exactly. Also Louisa, remember that there are many unknowns for Martin right now. The most immediate concern he probably has is how painful it's going to be to have his limbs being moved around. He knows it'll hurt but he doesn't know to what extent, and I'm sure the thought of having to put weight on those legs of his is pretty scary as well. Add to that the uncertainty about what the final outcome will be, how it'll effect his job as a GP let alone the possibility of ever returning to surgery, and how it'll effect what he can do with his son, with you... it's a frightening time for Mart."

Louisa worried the tissue in her hands. "I don't think I was looking at this from Martin's perspective. I was worrying about what would make me feel better, not what would be helpful to him."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Louisa. Your intentions were good. But I would imagine that after having spent a week in that chair by his bed it would be hard to not feel hurt when he told to stay away. Martin finds it difficult to word things in a tactful manner in the best of times. It's hard for him to think straight right now so try not to take his bluntness today personally." Chris rose from his chair and offered Louisa a hand. "Shall we go then? I'm sure Carol has dinner done by now and I bet James Henry is wanting his mum."

Louisa tossed and turned after she went to bed that night. Would Martin think that she had gotten fed up and left him again. Morning couldn't come fast enough. She felt a desperate need to hold her husband.

* * *

><p>Louisa was up bright and early Saturday morning. It would be a busy day. Ruth would be coming to see Martin and she and James would ride back to PortWenn with her to try to resume some semblance of life as usual. But, first she wanted to go and clear the air with Martin.<p>

Chris expected that Louisa would be wanting to get an early start so he had already eaten breakfast. Louisa finished feeding James and once again left him with Carol so that she could go to be with her husband.

When they arrived at hospital Chris sent Louisa on ahead so that he could tend to other business in his office. She hurried down the corridors and through the doors to the I.C.U. Martin was sitting up in bed when she came into his room. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hair.

"Martin, I am so, so sorry."

"Mm, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Louisa took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She could see the hurt and frightened little boy in them.

"Martin, I got my feelings hurt last night but it was so wrong for me to run out on you like that. I want you to know that I'll be here for you, all the way through this. Whatever you need me to do to help you, I'll do. Even if that means staying away for awhile."

"But Louisa, I don't _want_ you to stay away! I just need to work very hard now to get everything I can out of physiotherapy and I... and I can't..."

"Martin, I understand. Chris talked with me about this and I do understand now."

"But Louisa, please give me some time to get this out... to get the words right."

She saw the desperation in his face. "Alright, I'm listening."

Martin took in a breath before beginning to speak. "I am so very, very thankful for you. The night of the accident... I knew that I was bleeding to death. I could feel it. When they started to pull me out of the car the pain was..."

Martin stopped to catch his breath. "The pain was so intense that I wanted to die. And I could feel the life draining out of me. But then I remembered you and James. You... the two of you are my reason for living. And you've been here for me whenever I've needed you... you've gotten me through this. So please, don't think that I don't need you now!"

Louisa brushed the tears from her cheeks. "That means so much to me Martin... to know you need me."

Tears began to moisten Martin's eyes and he turned his head away from her.

"Martin, what is it?"

"I had a dream last night... _you_ needed _me_ and I was useless to you. You'd been hit by that car and as I ran towards you to help, my legs crumbled apart. I tried to drag myself to you but my arm gave way... like it had turned to rubber. I was useless, I couldn't take care of you."

Louisa took hold of his chin and turned his face towards her. "Martin Ellingham, you _will_ have an arm and legs that will be fully usable. I have no doubts about that because I know how determined you are. I also know that the man I married would find a way to care for his family, legs or no legs. You've figured out how to care for your patients despite your blood sensitivity. Hmm?"

"Mm."

Louisa smiled at him. "Yes, Mm. Now, I'm going to go back to the Parsons' to pack. James and I'll ride back with Ruth this afternoon. I'll stop back before we leave."

"Louisa, I don't want to be here on my own but it just doesn't make sense for you to stay. But, I do want you to come and visit so you'll need a car. The insurance information is in my wallet... can you get it and call the man? They should cover a rental but if they don't, just rent one anyway. We'll sort things permanently after I'm home."

That thought brought a smile to Louisa's face. "I can't wait to have us all home again."


	53. Chapter 53

Ed Christianson stopped by Martin's room shortly after Louisa left. He stood at the foot of the bed, silently flipping through the last pages of patient notes.

"Well, it looks like all went pretty well yesterday. Some grafting that will probably need to be done down the road but that should be a walk in the park compared to what you've been through in the last week. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a lorry. How do you thi..." Martin caught himself in the middle of what he knew was a less than civil and undeserved response to the man who had helped to save his life.

"Sorry, just not in a good mood," Martin said, pausing to gather his thoughts. "Physically... it hurts everywhere, places I didn't know could hurt. I'm in a much better place now than I was a week ago though."

Mr. Christianson came to the side of the bed and grasped onto the bed rail to lower it. "And mentally?"

"My wife's going home today. A physiotherapist might be in this morning to start working on range of motion and I thought it might be best if Louisa wasn't here."

"So you're losing your moral support?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "I'll be fine."

"How would you feel about moving into a regular room later today?"

Martin pivoted his head quickly and gave Ed an apprehensive look. "A room or a ward?"

"Martin, you got us the funding for our air ambulance, I think we can swing a private room for you, and with the physio I thought you might appreciate the privacy."

"I will appreciate the privacy. Thank you for arranging that."

"We'll take out the thoracic drains in just a few minutes here, then we'll see how you do through the rest of the day without them. I'm going to send you down to radiology for a chest x-ray before we cut you loose from I.C.U. If there's any sign of *mediastinal fluid build up then we'll keep you here awhile longer."

One by one, Ed removed the bandages covering Martin's wounds, checking for any redness or seepage. "Any of the wounds been bothering more than the others?"

"Mm, my left leg's been throbbing."

"Yeah, I think we have some infection starting there. We'll hit you harder with the antibiotics and I'd like to get a CT of that leg... make sure there's no **osteomyelitis. You're not febrile so I'm pretty confident it's confined to the soft tissue. Don't want to take any chances though. How's the belly feeling?"

"Sore, but bearable."

"And the thoracotomy wound?"

"What one would expect at this point."

"Okay, I'm going to give the go ahead for the physiotherapy. They'll probably want you to sit in a recliner for awhile, get you off your back for a bit. Mostly they'll work on your range of motion to start with, maybe some strengthening exercises for the thigh muscles."

Ed studied Martin's face before pulling up a chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling about all of this Martin? About all that's happened... all that lies ahead?"

Martin picked at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket, "Well, of course I wish that it hadn't happened... and I don't like being apart from my wife. I miss my son... a lot."

"I have to tell you Mart, all of us on your care team, including those two characters from Imperial... we're concerned about you. Not just how you are physically but how you are emotionally. We know that you're going to have a tendency to internalise all of this so I want to send someone by to see you... someone that you can talk to... see if we can help you deal with all of this in a positive way and prevent any depressive episodes."

Ed watched as Martin sat unresponsive. "It would be good if you could give me a little feedback here."

Martin shook his head, "You don't need to... send someone by. I have someone I've been seeing. I'll call him if you want me to talk to someone."

"I tell you what, give me his name and I'll call him and set something up... make sure it doesn't conflict with your physio schedule."

"Barrett Newell... it's Barrett Newell."

"Okay, excellent doctor. I'll give him a call. I, um... I'm glad you're agreeable to this."

Martin glanced up at Mr. Christianson, "I just want to get home to my family."

"We'll get you there, Martin. We'll get you there," he said patting Martin's shoulder.

There was a knock at the door and Ed stood as Ruth stepped into the room. "Am I interrupting?"

Ed waved her in, "No, no. Come on in... please."

Ruth extended her hand to Ed, "I'm Martin's aunt, Ruth Ellingham. Are you one of the brilliant doctors who pulled my nephew back from death's door?"

"I'm Mr. Christianson," Ed said taking Ruth's hand. "I don't know about brilliant, but yes I'm one of Martin's doctors. It's nice to meet you ma'am."

"Oh, please don't call me that. It makes me feel like an old biddy." Ruth shot Martin a look, preventing him from making any comment about her senescence.

"I was just going to remove the drains we put in after your nephew's thoracotomy. We'll see how he does today, if all looks good later this afternoon, we'll move him to a regular room."

"Well, that's cause for celebration!" said Ruth, giving Martin a crooked smile.

"Okay Martin, let's get you rolled onto that left side," Ed said as he adjusted the sling over Martin's head. The doctor pulled out the drains and a nurse came in and dressed the wounds that were left behind and also replaced the bandages that Mr. Christianson had removed.

"I'll leave you to visit with your aunt, Martin. Hopefully the next time I see you will be upstairs in more comfortable accommodations. Ruth, it was nice to meet you."

Ruth settled into a chair and gave her nephew an inquisitive once over. "Well, you're still out of commission but on the mend. Have they given you any idea yet as to when you might be able to come home?"

"No... I've been afraid to ask. I would imagine it'll have a lot to do with when I can get myself ambulatory."

"And that will be about how long?"

Martin sighed heavily, "At least two more weeks, probably more like three. Ah, Aunt Ruth, do you think we could borrow Al long enough for him to get some things moved around at the surgery?"

"I think that could be arranged. How do you plan to handle moving back home?"

"I'm not sure. The stairs are out of the question so I guess we'll use the consulting room as a bedroom for awhile. Chris hasn't said how he wants to deal with the practice while I'm laid up. Everyone went to Wadebridge before I took the G.P. position so I would imagine the villagers could find their way back there if they tried hard enough."

Ruth stood and walked to the end of the bed, "Mind if I look?"

Martin scowled at her. "Go ahead."

Ruth pulled the blankets away from Martin's legs. "Well, it's not pretty but it's definitely an improvement over a few days ago, and all that hardware is serving a purpose."

Ruth came around to the head of the bed and opened the sling to look at Martin's arm. "Hm, there's a lot of soft tissue damage here isn't there."

Martin shifted uncomfortably and turned his head away.

Ruth looked at him suspiciously and asked, "You _have_ looked at your injuries, haven't you, Martin?"

He hesitated, "My gawping at those wounds won't make them heal any faster, Aunt Ruth."

"Nooo, I don't believe I suggested anything of the sort. I do think that at some point you'll need to face up to this though, and I think you should do it sooner rather than later."

Martin furrowed his brow and turned his gaze away from his aunt. "Yes... I will!"

"Good. Well, I told Louisa that I'd pick her up so I should get going. She plans to stop in to see you before we head back to Port Wenn, but I'll say goodbye now."

Aunt Ruth looked sympathetically at her nephew before adding, "You've done very well, Martin. I'm proud of you, and if my brother wasn't such an idiot... and dead... he'd be proud of you too. This last week couldn't have been easy and the weeks ahead won't be much easier I'm afraid. But I have great faith in you nephew. You've overcome a lot in your life and I know that you'll overcome this as well. Ruth leaned over and kissed Martin goodbye before she left him on his own.

* * *

><p>*fluid build up in the chest cavity<p>

**An infection in the bones that can lead to the loss of limbs. This condition can be very difficult to treat and to get under control.


	54. Chapter 54

Martin had eaten what he could of his lunch and a nurse had come into his room to tend to the maintenance of the external fixators on his limbs. Each of the individual pins penetrating his skin and continuing into his bones had to be cleaned thoroughly several times a day. Fluid continued to seep out around the pins, hardening into a crust that had to be continually cleaned off. This was only a mildly painful process, but given the number of pins in Martin's body it was also a lengthy process and Martin was now finding himself fighting nausea and light-headedness as the nurse continued to work at cleaning and disinfecting the pin sites.

"Are you almost done? I'm not feeling well," said Martin as he laid his head back on his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut."

The nurse looked up to answer her patient, noticing his growing pallor and the perspiration on his face. "Let's take a little break, Dr. Ellingham. Can I bring you something to drink... some juice or a soda maybe?"

Martin's stomach churned at the thought of trying to swallow anything at that moment and he shook his head vigorously.

"I'll step out and give you a few minutes to catch your breath," she said, patting Martin's hand.

_Gawd, I'm getting tired of looking at this ceiling!_ he thought as he tried to get his mind off all the poking and prodding that he was having to submit to. He heard the door to his room slide open and he groaned internally expecting the return of the nurse with her instruments of torture.

"Hey Mart, how are you doing?" Martin turned his head at the sound of Chris' voice. "Jeez, you don't look so great mate. Chris came over and placed his fingers on Martin's wrist.

Martin pulled his hand away sharply. "I'm fine. Just that those bloody nurses keep coming in and cleaning these pins. It's amazing that any other patients get any attention at all with the amount of time they seem to spend in here," he groused.

"Ah," Chris nodded, pulling up a chair. "Has Louisa been back yet?"

"No," Martin scowled. "James is usually napping at this time."

"Oh, sure. So, did Ed take your drains out this morning?"

"Yes." Martin furrowed his brow, "Look, can we talk about something other than my health?"

Chris cocked his head at his friend. "What can I do to help you here, Mart? I can bring in a chess board... a video... some of my BMJs..."

Martin sighed deeply, "Sorry...I'm not in the best mood today."

"Does this have anything to do with Louisa leaving?"

"Probably." Martin said rubbing his eyes.

"For what it's worth, I feel the same way when Carol's gone." Chris leaned back and put his feet up on the bedrail.

"Um Chris, what are the plans for handling patient care in Port Wenn while I'm gone?"

Chris folded his hands behind his head, "I thought it would be easiest to have them go to Wadebridge for care. But it's your practice so feel free to say if you have other ideas."

"No, no. That makes sense to me. Hopefully it won't be for more than four or five months."

Chris watched Martin's dour face. "I suspect your spirits may improve when you can take a more active role in your recovery, Mart. But, don't hesitate to tell me if there's something I can do to make this all easier for you... please."

Martin rubbed his forehead, "There is something."

"Just name it, mate."

"I haven't looked at... I, er. I haven't seen what everything looks like. I really don't see the need but Ruth seems to thinks it's important and... well, I can't reach my damn arm and legs!" Martin said in frustration.

Chris put his feet back down on the floor and walked to the door, stepping outside briefly to alert the nurses station that he and Martin were not to be disturbed. He returned, locking the door and pulling the curtain.

"Okay, Mart. Let's do this... okay?"

Martin could feel his heart pounding as Chris pulled the blankets back from his legs. As a surgeon, he had repaired severed arteries in patients with injuries nearly identical to his own. How clinically he had looked at their repaired limbs, assuring himself that he could feel an adequate pulse in the foot... the hand, that there was no redness or drainage that could be a warning sign of developing infection. That brief sense of relief that his hard work was not in jeopardy.

But as he looked at his own legs he didn't think about adequate blood flow or bacteria that could be proliferating in his wounds. He found himself struggling with the visceral reaction he was having to the metal framework that now merged with his flesh and the immediate urge to pull the foreign objects out of his body. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. When he opened his eyes again he tried to look at his own wounds as he would as a doctor looking at his patient.

"Should I take the bandages off Mart?"

Martin swallowed hard and nodded his head. Chris peeled back the gauze revealing a six inch long vertical line of neat sutures on the inside edge of his shin before showing him the repaired laceration in his upper leg, a ten inch diagonal wound extending from the middle of his inner thigh up and across to the outside of his leg. He felt a return of the sensation of warmth and wetness that he had felt spreading across his lap as he sat unable to move, trapped in the twisted metal of the wreckage. Martin squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath, trying to loosen the growing tightness in his chest.

"Are you okay, Mart?" Chris asked, holding out a glass of water for his friend. "Take a little break and catch your breath."

"I'm alright, it's just that... it brought back some rather bad memories." He took a few sips of water before Chris placed the glass on the table next to the bed.

Martin looked at his friend, nodding his head slightly. "Okay, I'm ready," he said shifting his gaze in the direction of his injured arm.

"We'll have to move this arm a bit or you won't be able to see anything I'm afraid. Just relax and let me do all the work."

Chris put a small pillow on the tray table next to the bed and moved it over so that it was extending over his friend's lap. He then slid the sling forward slightly and peeled back the Velcro closures. Holding onto the metal fixator, he slowly lowered Martin's arm down, resting it on the pillow. Martin could see the deformity in his arm, a result of the soft tissue loss in the accident itself as well as the repeated debridement of nonviable tissue. He reached over and tentatively removed the bandage covering the worst of the wound, revealing a jagged three inch line of sutures on the top of his forearm. Chris took hold of the fixator and raised the arm up so that his friend could see the damage to the underside, a slightly longer and equally disfiguring wound.

"Remember Mart, this will look a lot better after another round of skin grafting down the road."

Martin nodded his head as he listened to his friends voice growing more muffled in his ears. The lights grew dim and it felt to Martin as though the air was being sucked out of his lungs. He drew in ragged breaths as various emotions washed over him... a sense of loss of his former appearance, fear of how his injuries would impact his life... his career, and an overwhelming sense of sadness over the repulsion he was sure that he would see in Louisa's eyes when she saw his disfigurements for the first time.

Martin turned his face away from his friend, trying to hide the tears spilling onto his cheeks but his short rapid breaths gave him away.

Chris put one hand on the back of Martin's neck and the other rubbed his shoulder. "It'll be alright Mart, Robert still has more work to do. And he's confident that you'll have good use the arm."

Martin ran his large palm down his face, wiping away the tears. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

Chris replaced the bandage. As he lifted his friend's arm back into the sling he heard a sharp intake of air and glancing over saw a grimace on Martin's face.

"Sorry Mart, I was trying to be careful."

Martin shook his head, "No, no. It's my shoulder, it felt like something snapped."

Chris pressed the Velcro closures back into place, watching his friend intently.

"Is it still hurting, or is it better now?"

"Better, I think."

"Hmm, we better let Will know about this. I know that he'll want a CT so I'll go ahead and arrange that.

Chris finished getting Martin settled back in before notifying the nurses station that they could come back in.

The nurse who had been cleaning Martin's fixator pins came back into the room to finish the job. Martin closed his eyes and tried to tune out what she was doing but the persistent rubbing away at the crusts around each pin was again making him feel ill.

He grabbed for the basin next to his bed and vomited into it.

"I'm sorry Dr. Ellingham, I'm almost finished here. Should we take another break before continuing on?"

"No, no. Just finish it up... please!"

The nurse finished her job and wrapped each pin with a compression dressing before leaving Martin alone in his room. It was still early afternoon but he was exhausted and drifted quickly off to sleep.


	55. Chapter 55

Martin had been asleep for the better part of an hour before being awakened by warm lips pressed against his. As he pried his eyes open, the lips moved first from one cheek then to the other before finally landing with a kiss on his forehead.

"Hello, Martin," Louisa said, looking at him lovingly.

Martin rubbed his eyes and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Just past half three. How's your day been?"

"Mm, I'm not sure that you really want to know."

Louisa gave him a look of mock astonishment. "I want to know everything there is to know about you Martin Ellingham!"

Martin sighed, blinking slowly to try to wipe the fog from his eyes. "Let's see, Ed came in and took out the thoracotomy drains, um... Ruth stopped by, I had my pins cleaned then Chris came in and we... talked, I had my pins cleaned some more, threw up and had some more pin cleaning... then I fell asleep. You are by far the nicest and most interesting thing that's happened today."

Louisa smiled at him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I like being the nicest and most interesting thing."

Martin pulled her back down to him and kissed her. "How's James?"

"He's just fine, entertaining Ruth in the waiting area right now. Has a therapist been in yet?"

"No, not yet. They may wait now until they get me moved to a regular room later this afternoon."

"Martin! They're moving you out of I.C.U.?" Louisa said, beaming. "That's wonderful news!"

"Mm, Ed wants another x-ray first to make sure no fluid build up's occurred since the drain removal this morning, but if that looks good then they'll move me."

"It sounds like they think you're making progress," she said nodding her head vigorously.

"Mmm. At least I'm not going backwards anymore."

"Well, now I wish that I could stay to help you settle in to your new residence, but I guess I better get going so we can make it home before dark."

Martin and Louisa looked into each other's eyes, neither wanting to say goodbye.

Louisa leaned forward and touched her nose to her husband's. "You'll call me if you feel lonely... or just want to talk?"

"Ah, I don't... have my mobile. I don't know where it ended up the other night."

"I'll check with the nurses. I need to get your wallet from them too... for the insurance information. Be right back," she said placing another kiss on his nose.

Louisa returned a short time later carrying a brown paper bag that was stapled shut across the top. "Got it!" she said. Martin reached his hand out for the bag. "Louisa, let me!" he said pleadingly as she ripped the top open and dumped the contents out on the recliner in the corner of the room. Martin watched her face crumple as she looked down at the dissected pieces of her husband's bloodied clothing.

"Oh, Martin!" Louisa said as she picked up his ruined white dress shirt and held it to her face to hide her tears from him.

Martin waved his hand, beckoning her to come to him. "Louisa, come here... come here."

She moved to his bedside and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Burying her head in her husband's chest, she released all the emotions that she had kept hidden from him over the course of the last week.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh," Martin said softly, trying to calm his wife. "It's alright now," he said as he stroked his hand over her head. "It's alright, Louisa."

Louisa's sobs dissolved into ragged breaths and sniffles as she finally raised her head to look at him. Martin took the corner of the blanket and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Better now?" he asked gently.

Louisa sighed, "Oh Martin, I wanted to be strong for you and here I am getting tears and... and..."

"Snot," Martin added helpfully.

"Yes, Martin... snot, all over you. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise. Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, I do." Louisa went back to her husband's belongings and fished out his wallet and mobile. "Hmm, it needs a charge. I'll ask Chris to bring you a charger."

"Thank you," Martin said as he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry about all of this, Louisa."

"Martin, I don't want to hear you apologise one more time! I mean it, this is in no way your fault!" She softened her tone, "I guess... I'm sorry about all of this too. I'm sorry this happened to you... to us. But it did and we'll make the best of it won't we!"

"Yes."

"Now, I better go. Call me anytime you want, even when I'm at the school. You will NOT be bothering me... so don't even start about that."

"Will you come and visit me?"

"Just try and stop me!"

"I'll look forward to that," Martin said, taking her hand.

Louisa kissed her husband goodbye and reluctantly left the room.

An aide came in after Louisa had gone and took Martin down to radiology for a chest x-ray and also the CT of his left leg. Ed Christianson stopped in Martin's room a bit later to discuss the results. He pulled a chair over next to the bed and took a seat.

"Your films look good Mart, so I think we can go ahead and move you upstairs to a decent room. I do want to keep an eye on that leg, though. We've upped the I.V. antibiotics and I'm hopeful that will nip the infection in the bud, but if need be we'll open the leg up and pack it off with antibiotic beads again until we have things under control." Ed slapped his palms down on his knees before getting to his feet, "But for now, lets get you moved out of here." He patted Martin's shoulder, "One step closer to home, my friend."

Two aides came a few minutes later to move Martin to his new room. After more than a week of looking at the same four windowless walls, the trip through the hospital corridors bordered on exciting for Martin. It at least boosted his spirits a bit. He was familiar enough with the hospital to know that the room they gave him was one of a handful of large, suite-like rooms normally reserved for the occasional visiting celebrity or aristocrat, or for the well-heeled.

Martin had a west facing window and he watched as the sun dropped to the horizon. He wondered if Louisa had arrived back in Port Wenn, and if so whether she also was watching as the muted pink and purple hues of the evening sky faded into grey, the light of the stars becoming just barely perceptible.

There was a knock on his door and a young man entered the room introducing himself as Tim Spalding, a physiotherapist on staff at hospital.

"I won't be the only one working with you Dr. Ellingham, but I will be in charge of your physiotherapy so if you have any questions or concerns please feel free to call me... anytime. I'll work a bit with you this evening on some gentle range of motion exercises and stretching those muscles so that they don't tighten up on you anymore than they probably already have. How are you feeling about the physiotherapy... a bit apprehensive perhaps?"

Martin had seen his own patients undergoing therapy but had always remained fairly detached from the process. It wasn't that he didn't feel empathy for them when he could see that they were in pain, but it wasn't his job and he had always tried to keep his focus where it needed to be.

"I don't really know what to expect. I know it'll be painful... for awhile, but I don't know how painful. So yes, I'm apprehensive."

"Well, I'll start slow and build up to what you can no longer tolerate. That threshold will get higher with time but the more you can push yourself to do, the better the end result will be and the quicker we'll reach that end result. But ultimately, you call the shots here... you determine how much is too much." Tim watched as Martin's face seemed to relax a bit. "Are you ready to do a little work then?"

"Mm, yes."

Tim worked on Martin's right leg first. He grasped the fixator on the top and side of his lower leg, lifting it up and pushing it towards his patient, bending his knee slightly. Martin groaned as the contracted muscles stretched, pulling on the tendons that attach the muscle tissue to the bones. The therapist released the pressure on Martin's leg before pushing it forward again. He repeated this process, gradually working his patient's knee farther back."

"How are you doing Dr. Ellingham... hangin' in there or should we stop for now?"

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath. "You can go a bit more," he said nodding his head.

Tim kept at it, working Martin's leg back and forth. "Okay, I think we better stop there for now. Are you ready for the other leg?"

Martin swallowed back the nausea that he was beginning to feel. "Could I have some water first?"

"Oh, sure! Sorry bout that. Stop me anytime if you need a breather or a drink," he said as he handed Martin a glass of water.

Martin took a few swallows from the glass before handing it back to his therapist.

"Okay, Martin. I want to work on increasing the range of motion with this ankle and stretch the *posterior and lateral muscles in your calf," Tim explained as he moved his patient's foot in a circular motion. First one direction, then the other. He then pushed Martin's foot forward and to the sides stretching the back and outside edge of his calf. Martin groaned loudly as the stretching muscles sent searing pain through the bones in his leg. Tim relaxed the pressure he had been putting on Martin's foot.

"Let's take another little break, okay?"

Martin nodded his head while trying to slow his breathing.

"So, are you married Dr. Ellingham... any children?"

"Yes, and I have a son," Martin said tersely, not really wanting to play the question and answer game at the moment.

"Okay, shall we work on the arm and those pectorals?"

"Mm."

Tim removed Martin's arm from the sling and laid it on a pillow on the tray table. He pushed Martin's hand downward from the wrist then upward, working to loosen the muscles and stretch the tendons in his patient's forearm. Beads of perspiration had formed on Martin's face and he clenched his teeth together to try to keep the groans from escaping. When the therapist felt he had pushed Martin to his limit he backed off and worked to loosen his stiffened fingers. Martin didn't find this nearly as painful as the direct pulling and pushing on his forearm had been.

The therapist worked his way up Martin's arm, holding onto the fixators on either side and bending and straightening the elbow several times. Martin pushed his head back into his pillow and cried out, trying to pull his arm back away from the source of the pain. Tim laid Martin's arm back down on the table and sat for a bit, allowing the pain to subside before again taking hold of the fixators and moving the entire arm side to side and up and down, working the pectoral muscles that had been dissected during the thoracotomy. Martin didn't find this to be as excruciating and began to relax a bit. Tim brought Martin's arm diagonally up and over his head. There was a sickening popping sound and Martin screamed out in pain. Tim brought Martin's arm down and laid it across his stomach.

"Dr. Ellingham, I probably don't have to tell you that your humeral head has slipped out of it's socket. Lay still and I'll go and get someone in here to reduce it."

Tim left the room and returned with Ed Christianson.

"Sounds like a bit of a problem, huh Martin?"

"Just stop talking and get it sorted!" Martin spluttered.

"Yes, yes. I will but I want to give you some extra morphine first," Ed said as he injected the medication into the I.V.

"You probably suffered a **labral tear in the accident as well as a tear in the biceps tendon. That's loosened the joint and allowed the humeral head to slip out. Had you been having pain in that shoulder?"

"Juss once this afternoon. No pain ever before... that." Martin could feel the morphine taking effect, muddling his thoughts and thickening his tongue.

"Okay Martin. You know how this works. I'm going to have Tim help me though so I don't knock any of those pins loose."

The two men pulled and rotated Martin's shoulder until it popped back into place then replaced his arm in the sling.

"We'll have to be pretty careful with the physio until we get that shoulder fixed... shouldn't be a big thing to repair though Martin... arthroscopic surgery. Simpson should be able to do it when Robert does the graft." Ed watched Martin as his eyes grew heavier and he dropped off to sleep. "Hmm, he probably didn't get half of what I just told him, did he?" said Ed rhetorically.

* * *

><p>*posterior and lateral- Don't mean to insult anyone's intelligence here but English is not the first language for some of us on this site. Posterior- the back of the leg. Lateral- the sides of the leg.<p>

**Labral tear- A tear in the soft tissue that forms a cup-like rim around the socket in the shoulder.


	56. Chapter 56

"So Ruth, did you get a chance to visit with Martin today?" asked Louisa, glancing over at the woman behind the wheel.

"Yes. You know my nephew though, I'm not sure that one would call it visiting. We did exchange a few sentences though."

"How did you find him?" she asked as she handed a bottle back to James Henry, buckled into his seat and chewing on a teething biscuit.

"Definitely improved since I saw him last. It helps to have those ghastly open wounds closed up. I suspect he's feeling a bit discouraged and extremely overwhelmed at the moment though. Wouldn't you be?"

Louisa furrowed her brow, "Hmm, yes I'm quite sure that I would. But overall, you think he's doing alright?"

"I was concerned when I discovered that he hadn't yet laid eyes on the damage done to him in the accident... and I told him so. He needs to face up to what's happened to him. I've seen many a patient develop PTSD symptoms after these horrific car accidents." Ruth paused before turning her head to look at Louisa. "I told him today that he needed to look at his wounds, and sooner rather than later."

The two women rode silently, watching as the terrain began to change from rolling moorland to the more rugged coastal geology.

"He's going to worry about how you'll see him you know," said Ruth as she stared at the road in front of her.

Louisa bit her bottom lip, "I know, he told me about a nightmare that he had. About that day of my accident. I'd been hit by that car and he couldn't get to me... to help me... because of his injuries. He's afraid he won't be able to protect James and me anymore."

"Yes, I'm sure he does worry about that. He'll heal though and I think that concern will pass when he gets his strength and mobility back. But the scars won't go away... I think Martin's going to worry that you'll find them off-putting."

"Well, that would be really shallow of me!"

Ruth nodded her head, "Yes, _I_ know that his scars won't bother you, but I can just about guarantee my _nephew_ is thinking otherwise. I think he's been afraid to look at his wounds because of it."

"But Ruth, I've seen his wounds. I don't care about how they'll look."

"Does Martin know that you've seen them?"

Louisa tried to remember the times that she'd been in his room when his arm or legs had been uncovered. "Hmm, I guess he's either been asleep or pretty fuzzy on those occasions. Oh Ruth, do you really think that he's worried about this?"

"Well, I'm not a mind reader dear, but I suspect he is... so I suggest that you discuss it with your husband before he worries himself silly about it."

"I will Ruth. I really hate having to be away from him. I'm as worried for his mental health right now as I am for his physical health."

Ruth steered the car down the hill leading into their little village. How odd it seemed to Louisa to be back in Port Wenn without Martin. He had been here for her whenever she needed him for the past five years and she now found herself feeling rather insecure without him.

They pulled into the surgery car park and Ruth helped Louisa gather the bags and carry them into the house.

"Ruth, would you please stay and have dinner with me? I really don't want to be alone yet," said Louisa as she plunked the bags down at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, I guess I have nothing to get done that can't wait until tomorrow."

"An omelet okay? We probably don't have a lot in the refrigerator."

"That sounds quite nice actually, but why don't you let me do the cooking and you can go and unpack... or do whatever one does with a baby after being away from home."

"Thank you Ruth. James and I will be back down in a tick. Let me know if you need anything," Louisa said over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs with the baby.

"Just what did you mean when you said you were worried about Martin's mental health?" Ruth asked as the two women were finishing up with dinner.

"Um, it seems he's remembered a few more details about the incident when he fractured his arm."

Ruth peered up at her, "Go on."

Louisa stood and began gathering the dirty dishes together to take to the sink. "He said that when he was trapped in the car the night of the accident it felt much the same in some ways as that day when he was seven. He said that he could feel a warm wetness spreading across his lap. I'm assuming from the haemorrhaging from the laceration on his thigh. Anyway, he could smell the blood. It put him back mentally to that day in his father's study... he remembered feeling a warm wetness soaking into his trousers... seeing blood running on the floor and pooling up next to him." Louisa paused to wipe the applesauce off James' face.

"So he thinks it was blood on the floor, not paint?" Ruth asked, her brow furrowed.

"That's what he thinks. I don't know Ruth, he'd been having some upsetting dreams while he was fighting that infection and maybe it was all a result of the high fever. I just don't know. I do know that Martin seemed very certain of the story he was telling me. He said that his father yelled, _'Martin, what have you done?'_ and then grabbed him by the arm. Then Margaret came in and yelled at him, accusing him of ruining the floor... and his clothes. She told him that he ruined everything."

Louisa leaned over to pick James up out of the high chair.

"Well, that certainly sounds like something Martin's monstrous mother would say," said Ruth as she set her teacup on the table.

Louisa sat back down with James on her lap.

"Martin said that Margaret locked him in the cupboard under the stairs..."

"Locked him in the cupboard under the stairs?" Ruth interjected.

Louisa looked at Ruth incredulously, "You did know that was a routine punishment for Martin... didn't you?"

Ruth shook her head as she stared across the table at Louisa.

Louisa continued with the story, "Martin was in the cupboard, laying on his broken arm. He was in pain and he could smell the blood on his trousers. He said it was hard to breathe. He said that it all made him nauseous and he threw up. He could hear people in the house... voices. After awhile he heard people leave and it got quiet. He was so afraid of what Margaret would do when she found the mess in the cupboard. Oh, Ruth, the poor child wet himself. There's more to the story but that's the gist of it."

Ruth sat mouth agape before tears began to well in her eyes. "Joan and I failed him miserably, didn't we?"

Louisa hurried around the table and knelt down by Ruth's chair, James on one knee. "Ruth, you did _not_ fail Martin. I know that _he_ certainly doesn't think you did. I suspect that by this time he had already become a master at hiding his emotions, and you and Joan would have had no way of knowing what was going on behind closed doors."

Louisa stood and put her free arm around Ruth's shoulders before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "You have been a source of comfort for your nephew, Ruth. I don't think there was anything that you could have done forty-five years ago. But he _does_ need you now."

Louisa took a seat in the chair next to her husband's aunt.

Ruth sat quietly for a few moments before asking, "So where did Martin say the blood came from?"

"He doesn't know. He told Chris that he remembers his father saying something to him... something that's made him worry that he may have hurt someone. Martin hasn't said anything to me about it though. I think he's afraid, Ruth. I think he's afraid that he may have been the cause of the blood on the floor."

Ruth sighed, "Well, I can certainly see why you're concerned about Martin's mental health. It's difficult to know if any, or all for that matter, of these recent recollections are true memories or a figment of his febrile or medicated imagination."

Louisa rose with James, preparing to take the boy upstairs. "Well, I made the mistake of second guessing Martin when I questioned his thinking on his parent's love for him. I won't make that mistake again. If Martin says it happened, then it happened," she said adamantly. "Please don't feel you need to leave Ruth, but I do need to get James off to bed."

Ruth rose and walked over to collect her jumper that she had hung on the coat rack by the door. "No, no. I should be getting home. It's been a long day for babies _and_ old ladies," she said as she put her hand on James Henry's head. "Do keep me posted on my nephew's progress, and let me know if I can be of help," she said as she closed the door behind her.


	57. Chapter 57

The daylight coming in his window woke Martin early the next morning. Chris had stopped by the night before and dropped off a charger so now that he had a functioning mobile Martin was anxious to call Louisa. He didn't want to risk waking either her or James so he laid in his bed watching the minutes tick by on the clock in his room.

Martin heard his door open and a nurse walked in. "Good morning Dr. Ellingham! Lovely day isn't it."

"Yes," said Martin in a tone lacking the enthusiasm that the nurse had shown.

"I'm here to get you cleaned up a bit and then we'll take care of your fixator pins."

Martin found the bed bath to be one of the most humiliating experiences that could be foisted on someone and he tried unsuccessfully to get the nurse to help him out of his hospital gown and leave him to bathe himself.

"No, I'm afraid I can't do that Dr. Ellingham. You're in no condition to be doing this on your own. Besides, how would you ever be able to wash between your toes?" she asked in jest, trying to illicit a smile from her patient.

"Why in the world would I need to wash between my toes? Good God woman, I've not been out of this bed in over a week and my feet have been thoroughly disinfected before every surgical procedure I've had! I've practically been marinated in betadine!" Martin snapped back, not picking up on the facetiousness of the woman's remark.

Martin could see the disconcerted expression on the nurse's face and he felt a pang of guilt for the harshness of his response.

"Um, just... go ahead and do what you need to do," he muttered.

The nurse finished washing his hair and giving him a sponge bath and Martin had to admit that he felt considerably better. She then started in on the tedious task of cleaning all of her patient's pin sites before wrapping each pin with a small compression bandage that was held tight against the skin with a clip that was fastened to the pin.

"There you are Dr. Ellingham, fresh as a daisy now," the nurse said as she gathered her equipment together and turned to leave.

"Ah, thank you... and, I'm... sorry about my earlier remark."

"It's quite understandable that you would be a bit short tempered. Don't give it a second thought," she said before hurrying out the door.

But Martin did give it a second thought. This was one of the things on his crap list that he needed to work on. He sighed heavily, wondering if he could ever learn to hold his tongue in situations like this or if the slightest irritation would always result in an eruption of intolerant vitriol. He resolved to try to do better with the nurse if she ever came into his room again.

The clock now said half eight and even though Louisa was known to sleep later than this on a weekend, James Henry was not, so Martin dialed Louisa's mobile number.

"Good morning, Martin!" said Louisa as she answered his call.

"Good morning, I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, no, not at all. James has been up for at least an hour. He inherited your early riser genes I think... thank you for that."

"Mm, yes. Sorry."

Martin felt the symptoms of stress that had been nagging at him since his unfortunate physiotherapy session the day before begin to subside a bit.

"It's nice to hear your voice... it... makes me feel better."

"I'm glad Martin. I hate not being there, but it's nice to know that I can still be helpful in some small way," said Louisa as she tried to finish putting James' nappy on with one hand while holding her mobile with the other. The baby released a string of chortles and babbles and Louisa held the mobile out so that Martin could hear his son.

He felt the stress ease a bit more.

"Did you get into a new room?" Louisa asked hopefully.

"I did. It's actually a suite. I think Chris and Ed Christianson are responsible for that. They seem to think that I somehow swung the NHS decision on the air ambulance in their favor."

"Well, you did Martin!"

"Louisa, it's not like I tried to have an accident, let alone time it so that the stupid committee would stand around and listen to all the sanguineous details over the dispatch radio."

Louisa gathered the baby in one arm and headed for the stairs, "Well, yes. But let them do this for you Martin. I think they feel a bit guilty actually that you've had to suffer so horribly and the rest of us will benefit from it."

Martin furrowed his brow, annoyed at the whole idea that he had somehow saved the day by colliding with a lorry. "They shouldn't feel guilty, it's not like I intentionally..."

"Martin," Louisa said softly. "Let it go."

"Mm, yes."

"What about physio... did a therapist stop in to see you?" Louisa asked as she plopped James into his high chair.

"Yes, a young fellow, can't remember his name."

"And..." Louisa waited for a response from her husband. "Martin, this is where you tell me what happened... what he did with you... how it went."

"It went... uh, fine."

"Martin!"

Louisa could hear Martin sigh into the phone and it brought a smile to her face... it was so Martin. "Was it as painful as you had expected?"

Martin knew this question would be asked and he also knew that he would rather not discuss it.

"It wasn't... it... " Another sigh. "Alright, yes it was painful but I survived, and it doesn't help me to talk about it," he answered testily.

"Martin, calm down. It's just that when I'm not there to see for myself how things are for you then I want to know all the details. It helps me to feel closer... not so detached from it all."

Louisa heard Martin sigh again and sensed that there was something he hadn't told her. "Martin...what is it? Is there something I should know?"

"It's not anything to be concerned about... it's... it's just that I found out that there's been some damage to my shoulder that we weren't aware of before."

"What do you mean by damage?"

Martin grimaced, knowing how his wife was going to react to the news about what had happened the day before.

"There was a bit of a problem during the physiotherapy. The therapist was moving my arm up and the humeral head slipped out of it's socket," he explained. "But, Ed got it reduced right away so please don't worry about it," Martin added quickly.

"Oh Martin! That's what happened to the man with the chickens... on our honeymoon. You told him he would be in agony!"

"Yes, but..."

"Martin, that must have hurt! Are you alright... does it still hurt?"

"Like I said Louisa, Ed reduced it right away so there's no need to worry. They'll have to get some pictures to know for sure what the problem is, but Will should be able to fix it when Robert does the graft later on."

Louisa closed her eyes and breathed out a long slow breath of air, trying to quell her growing frustration at her husband's seeming reluctance to answer her questions.

"Martin, I'm in Port Wenn and if you want me to stay here rather than to come back over there to be with you, then you need to tell me what I want to know. I'm asking you if it hurt when your... whatever it was... came out of the socket and I want to know if you're in pain now. If you can't answer my question then I'll have to come over there to see for myself!"

There was a period of silence before Louisa heard her husband's voice again.

"Yes... it hurt and... it aches now," Martin answered flatly.

"Thank you, Martin," Louisa replied softly. "I'm sorry for getting angry with you, but I'm very anxious about being apart from you right now and I need to trust that you're not hiding anything from me. Don't think for one minute that you're sparing me worry and stress by having this distance between us. I'm going to worry and stress about you until you're completely well again. It helps me to have as much information as possible... I don't like surprises. You do understand what I'm trying to say... don't you?"

"Yes."

Louisa let out a huff. "What's your room like?" Louisa asked, trying to shift the conversation to a more neutral topic.

Martin glanced around him, trying to decide what details his wife might be hoping to get from him. "Um... it's big...there's a window. And, there's a bathroom... which I can't make any use of. There's a sofa and a table in one corner." He waited for a response from Louisa, hoping he had satisfied her with his description, but hearing none he added a hesitant, "The walls are white."

"Hmm, what's the bed like?"

Martin looked quickly up and down the bed. "It's...it's..."

"Is it big enough for two?"

"No, it's just the standard sized... ah, you were joking?"

"Yes Martin, I was joking."

There was an awkward silence before Louisa spoke again. "Martin, I really miss you."

"Mm. I miss you, too."

Martin heard the door open and a woman entered his room. "Ah, Louisa. I should call you later today. Someone just came in."

"Oh, sure. Well... I love you."

"Mm... yes... me too," he said as he rang off.

"Hello, Dr. Ellingham. I'm Melita Biella, your physiotherapist today. Sorry to interrupt your phone call."

Martin waved off the woman's apology.

The therapist reached over and grasped the bed rail, lowering it to the side. "I've been told things didn't go very well yesterday so we'll need to be pretty cautious with that arm. I'd like to get you sitting up on the side of the bed and then we'll start getting you accustomed to using a lift to get yourself in and out of a wheelchair. I'm afraid it's going to be a couple of weeks before Dr. Christianson will allow you to be doing _any_ weight bearing on those legs."

The therapist repeated the exercises that Tim Spalding did with Martin the day before and showed him several exercises he was to do on his own to strengthen the muscles in his lower extremities. She then had him sit up and slipped his broken arm into a sling before helping him to manouever his hardware clad legs over the side of the bed. They immediately began to throb painfully as the blood rushed to the now lowered body parts. Martin squeezed his eyes shut and he tried to stifle the long groan that escaped.

"I know... it hurts. Give your body a few minutes to release more endorphins," she said, rubbing a hand on his back.

Gradually the pain became less intense and Martin began to relax. He had been almost flat in bed for the entire nine days that had elapsed since his accident and the simple act of sitting normally was therapeutic. He felt less a specimen to be studied and slightly more human.

"Okay, Dr. Ellingham. Let's see what we can do about getting you into a wheelchair. We'll have to use a *hydraulic lift for at least a couple of weeks until we can get you more **ambulatory. I've been told you're not fond of having people waste your time with unnecessary words so you tell me, should I explain anything before we get started or are you familiar with the process?"

"I know how the bloody thing works so just carry on," Martin grumbled.

The therapist positioned the sling on the bed and helped him to lay back down on top of it. She then wrapped it up around his sides, fastening it to the lift. The whole process took less than five minutes but Martin was emotionally and mentally exhausted by the time he was lowered into the chair. The ordeal seemed to put a large exclamation point on his feeling of helplessness.

Melita then got Martin situated with his legs elevated and wheeled him over near the window.

"Would you like to sit for a bit before we get you back to bed Dr. Ellingham?"

Martin nodded his head but didn't try to speak for fear the tightness in his throat would expose how utterly dispirited he was feeling at the moment.

* * *

><p>*hydraulic lift- As the name suggests, a hydraulic lifting mechanism used to lift patients from a bed to a wheelchair, commode, etc. A sling is placed under the patient and then fastened to the lift. The caregiver can then use the lift to raise the patient and move them to the desired location before lowering them into the wheelchair etc.<p>

**ambulatory- Able to walk about. Not bed-ridden.


	58. Chapter 58

Martin sat in the wheelchair, watching out the window as people hurried up and down the sidewalks, going to and from their cars in the adjoining parking lot. The same parking lot where just a little over a week ago, he himself had walked on two good legs from Dr. Newell's office over to Chris' office, just downstairs from where he was now sitting, unable to even get himself from his bed to a wheelchair without assistance. Hearing a rumbling and feeling a familiar vibration in his stomach, he looked up at the clock and was surprised to see it was past noon. They should have been around with the lunch menu by now. His therapist had left the room momentarily, so he would have to wait until she returned to inquire as to the whereabouts of his dinner. He heard the rattle of the knob on his door and looked over to see the Parsons walk into the room.

"Mart! You're upright! Very well done, mate," said Chris as he moved to his friend's side and immediately inspected his wounds.

"How's the infection in that left leg doing?"

"Mm, don't know. I haven't checked," replied Martin, not wanting to admit that he couldn't stomach the appearance of his own injuries.

Chris peeled the bandage off Martin's leg and squatted down to get a closer look at the incision. "Has Ed been in today to check up on you?"

"No. Why, is there a problem?"

"Not necessarily. You take a look, tell me what you think," Chris said, still fixated on his friend's wound.

He glanced up when he didn't get a response. Martin's face had blanched and he was sitting, eyes closed and perspiration beading on his forehead.

"Hey, Mart. It's okay, let Ed and I do the doctoring on this, alright?" he said, wiggling Martin's big toe.

Martin nodded his head and wiped his face dry with his palm.

"Are you okay now?" Chris asked with a look of concern.

"Yeah, just... you know," Martin said looking chagrined.

Carol stepped up from behind her husband. "Hi Martin, I hope you're hungry because we brought your dinner."

"We thought you might appreciate something other than hospital food," said Chris as he pulled the tray table over to Martin's wheelchair.

Carol set a large flat container in front of him and pried the plastic lid off. A wonderful aroma worked its way upward to Martin's olfactory receptors, heightening his already increasing appetite.

He looked back and forth between his friends wide eyed and a hint of a smile. "It's monkfish... and steamed vegetables!"

"Yep, and we brought you something else," said Chris as he presented Martin with an insulated cup, removing the lid for him so that the deep roasted fragrance of espresso could reach his nose.

"This is very... it's... very nice," Martin said, touched by his friends' thoughtfulness.

"Well Martin, we're just doing our part to get you well, and fattened up a bit. Sorry, Martin. There _is_ butter on the fish. You have no say in that matter. In your case the fat's good for you! We'll make sure you get at least one home cooked meal every day but you need to promise to follow it up with a dish of ice cream. You need the calories _and_ the calcium you know," said Carol.

"Mm, thank you... very much," said Martin uncomfortably.

"I need to get some papers from my office so we'll leave you to enjoy your meal."

"There's more where that came from Martin," Carol said over her shoulder as they walked out the door.

Martin sat in the sunshine relishing the wonderful meal in front of him, feeling cared for in a way he hadn't since he was a small boy being nurtured by his Auntie Joan.

The therapist returned shortly to get Martin back into bed. Once he was settled she worked his limbs a bit more, trying to keep the muscles from contracting and potentially displacing the bone fragments that Mr. Simpson had so carefully pieced together in theatre.

"You know Dr. Ellingham, you would probably find therapy more comfortable if you had your own pyjamas rather than our conventional hospital attire. Maybe a loose vest and a pair of boxer shorts. Just make sure they're baggy enough to fit over the hardware.

"I'll mention it to my wife but it might be next weekend before she visits again," said Martin.

"Where are you from, doctor?"

"Port Wenn, my wife is the head teacher at the primary school so she needs to be back to work tomorrow."

"Hmm, I'm sure you miss her... when things get especially rough for you here."

"Yes," said Martin, thinking about how the mere sound of Louisa's voice soothed his soul.

Ed Christianson entered the room and the therapist wrapped up the stretching exercises, leaving the two men on their own.

"Chris called me and was a little concerned about this incision, Martin. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I didn't lay eyes on you myself, so let's take a look," he said as he pulled the blankets back and removed the dressing.

Martin watched the man's face and noticed his features tighten.

"There a problem?" Martin asked, cocking his head at the man.

"I don't think our antibiotic cocktail here is doing the job," Ed said, gesturing to the bag of fluid hanging next to the bed.

"I want to get a swab culture and we'll see what that grows. If need be we'll open up the wound and debride... get another culture that way, then pack it off with beads again, you know the drill."

Ed tapped his fingers on the bedrail. "Any questions?"

Martin shook his head, avoiding eye contact with the surgeon.

"Alright then, I'll go get a culture tray and be right back."

The door closed behind the man. Martin blew out a breath of air and pressed his palm to his face, steeling himself against not only the discomfort of another procedure, but the disappointment and worry to come with another setback. Martin was a doctor and knew infections like these were common with his type of injuries, but he had hoped that he would be one of the lucky ones and would stay infection free.

Ed came back in, tray in hand, a few minutes later. He set the culture equipment down and pulled open the drawer next to Martin's bed to retrieve a thermometer. The Foley catheter that had been recording Martin's core temperature had been removed after his last operation, so the surgeon ran the thermometer over his patient's forehead before recording the reading in the patient notes.

*"Thirty-eight degrees," said Ed, glancing up at Martin.

Ed went to the sink and scrubbed his hands before opening the sterile tray. He put a towel under his patient's calf then proceeded to rinse the wound thoroughly with saline solution. "Be right back," said Ed as he walked to the sink to scrub up again.

"Okay Martin, with or without a local... I would highly recommend the local."

"Whatever you think," said Martin as he tried to focus his thoughts on James and Louisa... what they might be doing at the moment.

Ed picked up a syringe and injected **lidocaine in several locations around the incision. He then took a swab and inserted it into the wound between the sutures. He repeated the process with two more swabs before wiping a final swab down the incision line, using a zigzag motion.

"All done, my friend," Ed said looking up from his work. "How are you doing... okay?"

"Yeah," Martin said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "You'll keep me apprised of any results?"

Ed flashed his patient an encouraging smile, "You'll be the first to know. Try not to worry, we'll get things under control. I'll stop in tomorrow morning to check up on you and to take those drains out... get some rest if you can."

Martin waited for the door to close then called Louisa's mobile.

"Hello, Martin."

"Hello, is this a good time?"

"I just put James down for a nap, so yes it's a perfect time. How's your day going... better than yesterday?"

"In some ways, yes. I sat up on the edge of the bed for awhile. It probably doesn't sound very significant but it felt like a big step forward."

"That's wonderful, Martin! You'll be up and walking before you know it."

"Don't get carried away Louisa, that's a long way off."

"Yes Martin, I know."

Martin tipped his head and blinked his eyes in confusion. He really didn't think he would ever understand this woman he was married to. "Then... why did you say it if you didn't really mean it?"

"Because I wasn't thinking, so I didn't expect you to take me literally, Martin."

"I see."

"Oh! Ruth drove me over to Wadebridge today and I picked up a rental. The insurance _will _cover it, by the way."

"That's good. I was worried about you not having transportation... if James should need a doctor... you know."

"Yes, I do. I also feel better knowing that I have a way to get to you if you need me... or want me. Did a therapist come in again today?"

"Yes, twice. The first time she got me into a wheelchair and I sat by the window for awhile... had my dinner there actually. The Parsons brought me a home cooked meal... monkfish and steamed vegetables... and a good cup of espresso."

"Oh, how sweet of them! I feel much better knowing that someone's looking after you that way while I'm back home."

"Well, Carol intends to make it a daily event... she thinks I need fattening up," Martin said, trying to sound offended but not pulling it off well.

"You do need fattening up!"

"Mm. Um Louisa, the therapist suggested that I wear a vest and boxers now... it'll make the physio more comfortable. Could you bring some with you the next time you come to see me?"

"Certainly. You know, maybe you would find that attire more comfortable at home as well."

"Probably, it would be easier to get on over the fixators."

"That's true... not exactly what I meant, but true."

There was a pause in the conversation, Louisa not knowing what to say and Martin knowing what he wanted to say, but unsure of how to say it.

"Louisa... Ed came in awhile ago. Chris was concerned about the incision in my left leg and he called him. The antibiotics I've been on don't seem to be effective against the pathogens in that wound. Ed took some cultures. We'll have to wait to see what they grow, but hopefully they'll show us what we're dealing with."

"So are you saying that the test will tell you what antibiotic will get rid of the infection?"

Martin rubbed his eyes, he was beginning to feel very tired. "It's more complicated than that. Some bacteria grow rapidly, within twenty-four hours. Others can take days... or even weeks to grow. If it's a pathogen that grows rapidly then yes, it should help us to know what would be effective."

"And if not?" Louisa asked nervously.

Martin sighed heavily, "Then they'll open the wound back up and pack it off with the antibiotic bead pouches again."

"And that will clear it up?"

Martin swallowed hard, trying to loosen the constriction that was growing in his throat. "It should but... god, Louisa, I wish you were here," Martin said, his voice cracking.

Louisa could hear her husband's rapid breathing and she knew that he was fighting to stay in control of his emotions. She struggled to keep her own sense of panic at bay. "Maybe you should tell me what's scaring you Martin," Louisa said softly, trying to sound calm and reassuring despite the inner turmoil that she too was experiencing.

Louisa could hear his breathing getting more ragged. "Martin, please tell me. What is it?"

"I don't want to lose my leg Louisa! I'm afraid I could lose my..."

His uncontrolled sobs had become obvious and both of them were regretting their decision to part ways, so to speak.

"Martin, you're a doctor. I know that this is a very real and legitimate concern, but maybe you could try doing what Dr. Newell had you do... take yourself out of the equation and imagine a nameless patient in your place. Are the chances of a good outcome better than your worst fears?"

It got quiet on Martin's end of the conversation and then she heard him take a deep breath. "You're right. I was letting myself focus on the worst case scenario."

"I know you're going to be fine Martin. I just know in my heart that you're going to be fine."

Martin closed his eyes that night, and allowing himself to trust in Louisa's heart, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>* One hundred and one degrees Fahrenheit.<p>

**A commonly used local anesthetic.


	59. Chapter 59

Louisa found her usual morning routine thrown into disarray. She realised quickly how many of the household chores Martin ordinarily took care of. He had a way of doing things so quietly and efficiently that his efforts were often overlooked, particularly by her. She was accustomed to a leisurely shower in the morning while Martin, having been up much earlier to shower and dress, would get James ready for his day and get him started with breakfast. Louisa also found herself missing the hot breakfast she so often found awaiting her when she entered the kitchen.

Louisa was running behind schedule when Poppy arrived so she turned the baby duties over to her and scrambled to get herself ready for work.

"Oh Poppy, you are a lifesaver! Thank you so much for accommodating our ever changing schedule this last week. I fully intended to stay with Martin at least through this week but we decided it would be easier for him to focus on physical therapy if he was on his own."

"It's no trouble Mrs. Ellingham. I'm really sorry about you husband's accident, is he doing better?"

"He is doing much better Poppy. I'll tell you more about it later but I really need to get to the school. I have a favor to ask though... could you stay late tonight? I'd like to run some things over to Martin this afternoon and I don't know what time I'll be back. Would you be comfortable staying the night with James if I need to stay over there?"

"Um, yeah. I get a little nervous on my own at night but I've stayed home alone before at Mum and Dad's."

"Oh, thank you Poppy. That would be a huge help! I'll stop by and make sure you have everything you need before I leave for Truro." Louisa looked at her watch and grabbed a pile of books and her satchel from the table and dashed for the door.

"I'll call you when I have a better idea as to my plans," she said, stopping briefly to plant a kiss on the top of her son's head.

Martin's morning was off to a rougher start than Louisa's. He woke in the night, sick to his stomach and feverish. His leg was throbbing and he didn't need to look to know that the infection had worsened. Chris and Ed had been informed by the nursing staff of the situation and they had arrived at hospital as the sun was breaking over the horizon.

"Let's take a look here Martin," said Ed as he pulled the bandage away from his patient's incision, revealing an angry red wound oozing a purulent discharge. The surgeon picked up the silicone bulb attached to the end of the drainage tube in Martin's leg, noting the the greenish-yellow colour of the discharge.

"Chris, would you get a temp. on him, please," said Ed as he went to the sink to scrub and disinfect his hands before inspecting his patient's other wounds.

*"Thirty-nine point two, Ed," Chris informed his colleague.

"Feeling pretty lousy I bet, aren't you Martin," said Ed as he removed the bandage from Martin's arm.

Martin didn't have the energy or the desire to answer his surgeon but did manage to give the man a weak nod of his head.

Ed walked to the head of the bed and leaned onto the bed rail. "Alright Martin, we can't wait around any longer for bacteria to grow on agar plates. We're going to head into theatre and get that leg cleaned up and packed off. I also want to add **cefazolin to the mix in your IV. I really don't think this is MRSA so hopefully the cefazolin will do the trick. But I don't want to wait around on this. I'll leave Chris to see that you're prepped and I'm going to go scrub up. You okay with all this, Martin?" asked Ed before backing away from the bed.

"Yeah," not daring to open his eyes for fear the room would start spinning again.

"Chris, have someone bring him down as soon as he's ready," said Ed as he headed out the door.

"I'll be right back Mart, I need to chase somebody up to get you prepped," Chris said as he hurried off.

Two nuses came into the room and gave Martin the midazolam that had been ordered by Ed Christianson and reinserted a Foley catheter with a core temperature sensor. By the time Chris returned with a male nurse to help move Martin to theatre the patient was quite woozy.

"How are you doing, Mart?" Chris asked as he waited for the nurses to finished disinfecting Martin's leg.

"Mmm, I don... don feeel well. SSome... thingss wronng Chriss. I feeelike... crrrap."

"Martin, you have an infection in your leg. We're going to take you to theatre and debride the wound again and pack it off. You ready to go?" Chris watched Martin for any sign of a response but he had given up fighting the medication and drifted off to sleep.

Chris walked with his friend as far as the theatre doors before turning his attention to calling Louisa to inform her of the turn of events. Louisa was just arriving at the school when her mobile rang. She had an immediate sense of unease when she saw Chris' name on the screen.

"Chris... is something wrong?"

"Well, Martin's had a bit of a setback. Some infection has developed in his lower left leg."

Louisa stopped just inside the doors and sat down on a little bench in the hallway. "Martin mentioned this when he called last night. He was quite upset in fact... scared."

"It worsened overnight Louisa and he's just gone into theatre. Ed Christianson's going to open up the wound, wash out the nasty stuff that's accumulated in there and then remove the nonviable tissue. Once he gets done with that he'll pack it off with the beads that were used before and wrap it up again." Chris leaned against the wall waiting for Louisa's response.

Louisa felt a heaviness settle in her. The uncertainty of Martin's future again weighing her down. "Is this something that I should be... how serious is this, Chris?"

Chris pushed himself away from the wall and began to pace slowly up and down the hall as he explained the situation more completely to his friend's wife. "It is serious Louisa, but remember that this is actually something we were all anticipating... prepared for... Martin included. It's scary but this is usually a manageable problem. It's the relatively small but very real possibility of the infection not responding to treatment that makes us all uneasy."

"What do you mean by a _relatively_ small possibility that it won't respond?" Louisa asked suspiciously.

"It's difficult to say. The incidence of trauma wound infections rises exponentially with the number and severity of the injuries. Those same variables influence how easily the patient can fight off any infection that does develop. I've seen patients with with more devastating injuries than Martin's, but, Martin's injuries were severe. So I guess the best I can do to answer your question is to say that chances are good that we'll be able to get a handle on the situation.

"Well, we can talk more about this when I get there, Chris. I'll head out in just a few minutes. I need to let the school staff know I won't be here today and get the childminder set to stay with James."

"Give me a call when you get to hospital and I'll come down and meet you."

"I will. How was Martin this morning? Was he upset?"

"Not upset, but he was feeling pretty crummy, Louisa. Fever, headache, dizziness... he'd been vomiting in the night and having nausea this morning. He felt pretty sick. I'm sure your being here will help a lot."

"Alright, I'll be there in about an hour. Thank you, Chris." Louisa rang off and hurried down the hall to get things in order at the school before leaving.

Martin was back in his room but still sleeping when Chris showed Louisa to his room. The surgery had gone as well as could be expected and Mr. Christianson was satisfied that he was able to remove all of the bad tissue and that the wound was clean before packing it off and wrapping it.

"Martin has a high fever, and is still going to feel pretty sick when he wakes up. We would hope to see noticeable improvement by tomorrow morning, maybe even later today," said Chris as he pulled a chair over by the bed for Louisa.

"What will he feel like when he wakes up... any pain?"

"I think he'll feel more fatigue and general body aches than pain. He won't be real perky for awhile but you don't need to worry about any nightmarish moments like you had last week."

Martin began to mumble softly and his eyelids fluttered before opening slowly.

"Hi Martin," Louisa whispered to him as she held her hand to his hot cheek and leaned over to kiss him.

Martin's lids opened a little more as he tried to bring her face into focus. As their eyes locked on one another, he let out a deep sigh of relief and squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her close to him.

"I missed you," Martin whispered hoarsely and pressed his lips to the side of her head, still holding tightly to her.

"I missed you, too. Now close your eyes and try to go back to sleep... work on getting well."

"Promise me you won't leave."

Louisa pulled back so that she could look at him, and she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. "I _promise_ you Martin that I will not leave your side until you're ready for me to. Now, _sleep_."

Martin slept fitfully for the next three hours, waking up several times, retching from the nausea he was experiencing. A nurse came in around noon with lunch for Louisa. "As requested by Dr. Parsons," she explained as she set a tray down in front of her.

Early in the afternoon Martin began to mumble in his sleep. Louisa could just make out the words _I'm sorry_ being repeated over and over. His hand had been laying loosely in hers, but his grip began to tighten and he was becoming agitated.

"Martin, you're dreaming," said Louisa as she gently shook his shoulder. Martin gasped for air and he woke looking at her wildly with glazed and unfocused eyes. She reached up to caress his face, but he flinched and pulled his hand up quickly as if to protect his head. A nurse scuttled in and reached for his wrist to check his pulse. Martin pulled his hand back and began to thrash around, trying to climb out of the bed on the opposite side.

The nurse pressed the call button and tried to hang on to her patient. "He's delirious dear, help me to lay him back down. Martin pulled frantically at his arm in the sling, pleading with whatever antagonist his fevered mind had conjured up to let him go.

"Please... let go! It hurts... let go!"

The more Louisa and the nurse struggled with him, the harder he fought to get away. A second nurse came in and adjusted the midazolam pump and he slowly began to relax. Louisa held onto him, his body slumping back onto the bed.

She heard rapidly approaching footsteps coming down the hall before Mr. Christianson entered the room.

"He just had more midazolam. He was trying to pull his arm out of the sling and trying to get out of the bed," the nurse informed him.

Ed removed Martin's arm from the sling and unsnapped the top of Martin's hospital gown, examining his arm for any fixator pins which may have been knocked loose.

Chris approached from behind, "What's happened?"

"His temp's higher and he woke up delirious...attempted to get out of bed and was trying to pull his arm from the sling. The pins all look secure but he's *luxated that shoulder again, can you help me with it... make sure I don't knock anything loose?"

Chris nodded an affirmative to Ed then turned to Louisa who had been sitting somewhat dazed, trying to follow what was being said. "Louisa, it would be best if you waited outside. This won't take long and then you can come back in."

Louisa shook her head, "No. I'm staying here... I promised Martin that I wouldn't leave his side. I was in the bloody trauma centre with him Chris, I think I can handle this!"

Louisa held Martin's hand while the two men pulled and twisted her husband's upper arm until there was a loud pop and the joint dropped back into place.

"I want someone to get him fitted with an abduction orthosis... but have them consult with me first," Ed said addressing the nurse. "And I want him sedated until his fever comes down," he instructed over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.

"An abduction orthosis is a brace that'll support Martin's unstable shoulder," Chris explained after the surgeon had left the room.

"I see. Chris, is it a bad sign that Martin's fever is higher?" Louisa asked apprehensively.

"No, no. It's typical. It's the body's way of killing off bacteria, so in a way it's beneficial... to a degree. If it goes too much higher we'll need to take measures to bring it back down but he's okay for now," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Just Mr. Excitement isn't he?" Chris said, nodding his head in Martin's direction.

That brought a smile to Louisa's face. "Yep, usually when he's not even trying." Louisa proceeded to tell Chris about Martin's first week in Port Wenn, some of which he was already privy to.

"But you hadn't heard the part about him swearing up on the stage in front of most of the village... _and_ on live radio?" Louisa said, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Nope, that's a little morsel Martin had left out when _he_ told me the story," Chris said, chuckling.

Louisa sat introspective for a few moments. "You know Chris, so many of the things that Martin's done to upset me... I mean really upset me, I find myself laughing about when I look back on it. There's no ill intent in most of it. It's just Martin being Martin. My verbally clumsy and socially awkward husband.

After Chris left, Louisa went to the sofa in Martin's room and had a lie down. She woke later to the sound of her husband's voice.

"Louisa? Louisa!" Martin called out to her.

"I'm right here Martin," she said as she hurried to his bed, trying to shake the sleep from her head. Martin's fever had broken and he was sweating and pushing weakly at the blankets, trying to uncover himself.

"Louisa... I'm hot. Help me get these off, I'm hot!"

As she began to peel the blankets back, Martin suddenly grabbed for them, pulling them back up.

"I thought you were hot?" Louisa said confused by her husband's abrupt change of manner. He glanced in her direction and noting a mix of panic and embarrassment in his eyes, she surmised what was going through his head.

"You sit tight, I'll be right back" Louisa went to the nurses station and returned with a dry gown. She pulled a washcloth from the cupboard by the sink and got it wet. Returning to Martin's bed, she unsnapped the sweat soaked gown that he was wearing and began to wipe him down with the cool cloth, working her way around the large bandages over his thoracotomy and laparotomy wounds. She took a moment to rinse the cloth then came back to husband's bedside. As she reached to pull the blankets back Martin grasped her wrist.

"Louisa, please don't," he said, despair in his voice.

Louisa took his face in her hands, "Martin, I don't care about what you're trying to hide under there. It doesn't matter to me. Do you remember the 'list of reasons' that I gave you?" She watched his face as he nodded hesitantly.

"Martin, those are the reasons you deserve me, but they're also the reasons that I love you. The scars that you will always have will not repulse me in any way. They _will_ be a reminder to both of us of a very difficult time that we got through_ together_... a reminder that if we could get through this together, we can get through anything..._ together_."

Louisa leaned over and kissed him on the nose, "I've seen everything already you know."

She pulled the covers back and caressed his legs with the washcloth. Martin's eyes grew round with a look of apprehension and he watched his wife, but saw no indication of antipathy as she cleaned around his wounds and hardware.

She flashed him an impish smile, "Do I need to wash between your toes?"

"Mm yes, I've been told I'm incapable of doing that," he said, giving her a small smile in return.

* One hundred and two point seven degrees Fahrenheit

** Broad spectrum antibiotic.


	60. Chapter 60

Louisa was uncomfortable leaving Martin alone in Truro Monday night, and Martin wasn't ready to let her go for fear that there could be a turnaround in his condition. She stayed with her husband at hospital until well after dark before finally saying goodbye and returning to the Parsons for the night.

When she arrived at hospital the following day, she found a much improved Martin sitting on the side of the bed. He looked so wonderfully normal with the proper upright posture so typical of him.

Martin could see immediately how happy and relieved Louisa was to see him feeling so much better. Carol had sent a hot breakfast with her along with orders for Martin to clean his plate, a task he had no trouble completing.

"I can't remember when I've seen you eat like this!" Louisa said as she watched her husband tuck into the generous helping of poached eggs, oatmeal with nuts and raisins, and heavily buttered toast.

Martin stopped eating, fork in midair, and looked up at her sheepishly. "Mm, sorry... I was hungry."

"Don't you apologise, just eat!"

"Mm, yes."

Ed Christianson stopped in a short time later and gave them a very positive report. "The cultures we took grew staphylococcus aureus, so I feel very confident that we're on the right track with the cefazolin. Now our challenge is in getting you ambulatory. I'll have the physiotherapists come back in tomorrow, but I _do not_ want them doing anything with that left leg until I give the go ahead. We'll give that wound a few days before we close it up again. Sound good to you Martin?"

"Yes... um, did you talk with Barrett Newell yet?"

Louisa glanced over at her husband. This was something her husband hadn't mentioned to her.

"Ah, yes I did. He was actually planning to stop in yesterday but didn't think you'd feel much like talking. He'll drop by later this morning... sound okay to you?"

"Mm, that would be fine."

"Well, unless you have anything else crop up, I'll plan to see you tomorrow morning."

Louisa watched as Ed disappeared down the corridor before turning to Martin. "You didn't mention that Dr. Newell was stopping in to see you. Is... everything okay?"

"Um, can you help me change into my boxers and vest so I can lay back down. Then we can discuss this... my legs hurt and I need to elevate them." Martin leaned towards his left side, trying to shift weight off his fractured femur. "Did you bring my clothes?"

"Yes, I did. But, maybe I should get a nurse to help... I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. And I'll be needing your help at home so... please... I'd rather have you."

Louisa knew that Martin was clueless as to the power of those words, how much those words meant to her. For the second time in as many days, she felt him pulling her to him instead of pushing her away.

"Let me grab your things," she said as she hurried over to the bag she had brought from home.

Louisa unsnapped the gown her husband was wearing and stepped back to look at him, trying to figure out the best approach to getting him into the vest. She worked the sleeve carefully over the fixators before pulling the neck over his head.

"What about the IV?"

"Slide that little blue tab there over first... okay now unscrew the red piece."

Louisa smiled at her husband, "How bout that, I did it."

"Yes," Martin said, locking eyes with her before leaning forward to place a sound kiss on her lips.

"Mm, that was very nice Martin... but we better finish so you're not half dressed the next time someone comes in," she said returning his kiss.

Martin slipped his good arm through the sleeve of his vest before instructing Louisa on how to reconnect the IV.

"Okay, now the boxers," said Louisa, scrutinising the situation at hand. "What about the catheter?"

"They took it out this morning. I think you better help me lay back before we try to do the boxers."

Louisa looked at Martin uncertainly. "I don't know how to do that... to not hurt you."

"I just need you to lift my legs up onto the bed."

Louisa reached down and put her hands behind his calves.

"No, no. Grab hold of the fixator bars... on the anterior...er, front side of my legs."

Louisa shot Martin a dubious look, shaking her head. "Oh no, Martin... I can't do that!"

"It's actually less uncomfortable than if you put pressure on the soft tissue, and you don't want to pull on the skin around the pins. So... please, just grab the bars and swing my legs up onto the bed. But, go slow... turn with me."

Louisa reluctantly did as she was told, finding her stomach churning as she lifted Martin's legs up, following his body around as he painstakingly pivoted on the bed. She saw him grimacing and he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a groan, but she focused on doing her part to get him moved to where he was more comfortable.

Martin sat on the bed, leaning back on his good arm. He sighed and gave her an approving nod of his head. "The boxers now?"

"Yes." Louisa picked them up from the tray table and walked to the foot of the bed. She looked from her husband's legs back up to his face.

"This will be interesting," she said, giving him a wry smile.

"Just pull them up over the hardware, you'll have to work one side at a time... and be careful to not let the fabric catch and pull on the pins at all."

Martin's legs and feet were still very swollen and bruised and she instinctively leaned over and gave each a gentle kiss. Martin stared at his wife, feeling profoundly loved.

They worked together, Martin see-sawing himself back and forth while Louisa worked his clothes carefully up and over all the metalwork protruding from his legs. Louisa stood back, inspecting him carefully. "I think you're presentable now." She pulled the blankets back up over him after re-positioning the foam blocks used to elevate his legs.

"Now... your arm?" she asked, nodding her head towards the sling.

"Better wait on that... my shoulder makes it tricky."

Louisa noticed the perspiration on Martin's face and went to get a washcloth.

"Here, I can do it," said Martin as he reached for the cloth and wiped his face.

Martin handed the cloth back to his wife. "Thank you, Louisa. I'm much more comfortable now."

"Good, you look more comfortable," she said as she smoothed out his hair, tousled during the wrestling match with his vest.

"Now, you were going to tell me about Dr. Newell," she said, handing him a glass of water.

"Mm, it's nothing really. Ed... and Chris, Robert and Will evidently, seem to think I need to talk to someone about the accident. Ed was going to line someone up but I told him about Dr. Newell. That's really all there is to it."

Louisa sat down on the edge of the bed. "I think it's a good idea. It has been a pretty traumatic experience and there's still a lot of what happened that _I_ don't even know about."

Martin furrowed his brow, "What do you mean, you probably know more than I do... you were awake through the whole thing."

"Hmm, that's true but I wasn't there when it happened was I. Do you think you might tell me about it sometime?"

Martin thought awhile before answering her, "You could stay when Dr. Newell's here. I think I'd be fine with that... but... if I need to talk to him alone..."

"Yes Martin, I can give you some privacy... whenever you want it. You just tell me and I'll step out for a bit. I'm very happy that you're willing to involve me in this."

Louisa shifted up on the bed a bit and kissed him before hopping down. "I'm going to run down to the canteen. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Alright, I'll be back in a tick then."

Louisa stopped at the lavatory down the hall before continuing on. She spotted Ed Christianson talking with someone and when the man turned around and she saw that it was Dr. Newell.

"Hello, Mrs. Ellingham. I was just on my way down to see your husband."

"Yes, he's expecting you," she said flashing him a smile before turning to Mr. Christianson.

"Thank you, Ed for insisting that Martin talk with someone."

"Well, we know your husband isn't the sort to express his emotions and we were afraid he'd keep this all bottled up."

"I was just going to the canteen for a cuppa... and a biscuit maybe, but I'll be back in just a bit."

"Could you give me a little time alone with Martin... a half hour or so?" asked Dr. Newell.

"Certainly, I'll be back in a half hour," Louisa said before continuing down the hall, twisting her purse from side to side.

Martin was resting when Dr. Newell reached his room, but he woke when he heard the door open.

"Hello, Martin. I just spoke with your lovely wife, I think she'll join us a little later."

"Yes, she went to the canteen."

"Sounds like a pretty brutal week and a half for both of you."

"Mm, things are getting better now though."

"How have things been going otherwise... the depression and nightmares?"

Martin tried to shift his weight to get more comfortable. "The symptoms of depression have been better. I was actually hungry this morning and ate a big breakfast."

"Mm hmm, and the other?"

Martin took in a deep breath, "I've had a lot since the accident."

"About the accident, or something else?" asked Dr. Newell as he leaned against the bed.

"Not about the accident... more about my parents... things that happened."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I uh... remembered something when I was trapped in the car. It wasn't paint on the floor in my father's study, it was blood. And I remember more about that day now. There was blood puddling up next to where I was sitting on the floor and I could feel it, warm and wet, soaking into my trousers. Then Dad came in, you know that part. But then Mum came in. She was very angry at me about the mess on the floor... my trousers. She said I'd ruined the floor... my clothes... that I ruin everything. She grabbed me by the arm... the broken arm. I was pleading with her to let go, that it hurt, but she ignored me. Before she shoved me into the cupboard I looked at her face and... and..."

Tears began to roll down Martin's cheeks and Dr. Newell reached over for the box of tissues.

"Sorry," said Martin as he took the tissues from his therapist.

"You were telling me about your mother's face. What was it about her face that upset you?"

"The absolute hatred and disgust that I could see in her eyes... she um, shoved me into the cupboard and locked it. I was laying on my broken arm and the pain was intense. I could smell the blood on my trousers... and the smell and the pain made me sick to my stomach and I threw up... in the damn cupboard!

I could hear people outside. I didn't know what was going on...Mum liked to throw parties, but I hadn't heard her talk of one."

Martin furrowed his brow, "I don't know why the people were there, but after awhile I heard them going out the front door and..."

He hesitated as a fleeting sensation passed through him before quickly evaporating.

"What is it, Martin?"

He sighed and shook his head, "I don't know... it was a sound... a familiar sound but..."

Martin shut he eyes tightly, trying to remember. He brought his fist up, hitting his forehead in frustration before letting his arm drop back to his side.

"It's gone, I can't remember," he said, sounding defeated.

"Why don't you go back to the cupboard, Martin. What happened after the people left?"

"I could hear Mum's shoes. They made a certain sound... a harsh sound when her high heels hit the hardwood floors. It was a frightening sound sometimes. This was one of those times. I could tell that she was walking with purpose, like there was an anger in her footsteps. I was so afraid of what she would do when she saw the mess I'd made in the cupboard... I... wet myself, which made things even worse. I could feel my heart racing as I heard her stop and put the key in the lock."

Martin's breaths grew rapid and ragged and Dr. Newell could see a growing panic in his patient's eyes.

"Alright, Martin. Let's stop for now, you can finish the story later."

He handed Martin a glass of water and watched him as he seemed to relax a bit.

"Better now?" he asked.

"Mm, yes... I'm fine," Martin said, clearing his throat. "But, I want to finish... to tell you before I forget again."

"I don't think you'll forget these things again, but if you feel you're ready to go on then... I'm listening."

Martin cleared his throat again, "She opened the door, saw the mess and yelled at me to get out. I couldn't move. I'd been laying on my broken arm and... I couldn't move. Dad came in, grabbed me by the collar and pulled me out onto the floor. I laid there looking up at them and I could see they were angry at me, but I didn't understand... what I'd done wrong. Mum yanked me up by my arm and told me to go take a bath and bin my clothes. So, that's what I did."

"Martin, do you remember anything about what might have happened in your father's study... where the blood came from?"

"No, but I had some dreams... memories... when I was febrile and coming out of the anaesthesia. I'd hear my father's voice... the things he said, belittling things... about my job in Port Wenn, my not joining the navy when he wanted me to. But..."

"Yes?" said Dr Newell as he leaned his forearms on the bed rail.

"I remembered something Dad said to me... I must have asked him about some incident... why something had happened. Dad said, _You want to know why this happened? Because I have a son who lacks even an ounce of sense, that's why! _I think the two are connected but I don't know how."

The therapist looked at his watch, noting that Louisa would be back at anytime.

"I think we should shift gears Martin and come back to the incident in the study the next time we talk. Let's take a short break, I think your wife was planning to join us so I'm going to grab a cup of coffee and we'll continue once Louisa has arrived. Can I get a cup for you?"

Martin wrinkled up his nose. "I don't like hospital coffee."

Louisa returned shortly before the doctor, and could see that her husband was fatigued. "Did you two have a good talk?" she asked as she straightened his blankets.

"Mm, it was fine."

Louisa could feel him pulling back and thought it best to give him some space.

When Dr. Newell returned, he brought a chair over for Louisa then pulled a chair up for himself and sat down next to the bed.

"So, tell me about your accident. This happened after your appointment with me... did it have anything to do with our session?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Martin said, shaking his head. "I had a meeting at the hospital after I left your office, so it was well after my session with you when I headed home."

"So, how did it happen?"

"A lot of it's fuzzy for me, but I can remember coming up to the River Camel bridge... headlights from a car on the other side blinded me momentarily, and then there was a big transport lorry coming across the bridge from the other direction. It drifted over into my lane and I... there was no place to go... I was trapped." Martin sighed, "Everything gets sketchy after that."

Dr. Newell sat quietly for a few moments before looking up at Martin, "I'm sorry," he said shaking his head. "I was just trying to imagine what that would be like... seeing something coming at you like that... waiting for the impact."

Martin shrugged his shoulders, "It wasn't really like that. It happened so fast..."

Seconds passed before he began to speak again. "The guardrails... I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if it would be better to move left or right or... I didn't know what to do. Then there was a jolt... not anything I can really describe. It was like I could feel the energy behind that lorry go through me... I could feel it in my bones. And then nothing at all until I heard someone talking to me... and the pain started to..."

Martin stopped, trying to slow his breathing. "I can remember trying to cover my eyes to block out a bright light, but I couldn't move my arm... it was caught on something. I tried to pull it away and pain shot through me. There was someone in the car with me... I don't know who, but they told me to stay still. I sat there... in pain... waiting for them to get me out of there and I could feel blood running down my arm... across the palm of my hand. I could feel it spreading across my lap. I thought at first that I'd peed myself but then I noticed the pulsing in my leg and I knew... I knew I was bleeding out. I was sure that I was going to exsanguinate before they got me out of there."

"But, you didn't did you."

"No, I thought about Louisa and James... how I finally have a family... that loves me and... I didn't want to die. I think Louisa and James saved me at that moment."

Louisa stood up and kissed her husband's cheek.

"Well, Martin, you've done very well holding up to my interrogations. But, you look very tired and I don't want to overdo things here. I'll give you a couple of days to recuperate and stop back again. Will you be here on Friday, Louisa?"

"I can make a point to be. Whatever you think is best for Martin."

"Well, I asked because I suspect there may be some issues you'd like to discuss as well. But, for now we'll call it a day," he said, rising from his chair.

Dr. Newell walked out the door and Louisa leaned over, laying her head on her husband's chest and listening to his steady heartbeat.

"I'm am so very, very glad to have you still with me."

"Mm, and I'm very, very glad to still be here," Martin said as he pulled her closer.

* * *

><p>A slightly longer chapter this time. Hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas everyone!<p> 


	61. Chapter 61

A young woman from occupational therapy stopped in to see Martin just before lunch. The sound of the door opening startled Louisa and she quietly slipped away from the luxurious warmth of her husband. Martin had moved over on the bed after Dr. Newell left so that Louisa could lay with him while he napped.

The woman informed Louisa that she was there to fit Martin with a brace to protect his shoulder from any further injury. Louisa jostled her still sleeping husband. "Martin, someone's here to see you," said Louisa softly.

Martin groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, alarming Louisa. "Does something hurt, Martin?"

"No. I just ... it was... nice with you here," he mumbled sleepily. "Climb back in here with me," he said, looking at her with pleading eyes .

"How bout we pick up where we left off a little later? There's someone here to see you right now," Louisa said, nodding her head in the visitor's direction.

Martin turned his head quickly towards the other side of the bed and his face reddened when he saw the woman observing their interactions. He grumbled unintelligibly and raised the head of the bed.

"I'm Megan Whitmore. I'm here to fit you with your shoulder brace, Dr. Ellingham. Mr. Christianson's on his way down so we'll wait for him to arrive. He evidently has specific instructions for me."

"Will this brace keep his shoulder from slipping out again?" asked Louisa.

"There's no guarantee of that but it certainly will make it less likely. It'll also keep his arm elevated, even when he's up and about. That'll be important as he gets more mobile and is out of the bed more frequently."

The door opened and Ed hurried into the room.

"Hi, Megan. I wanted to be here when you set Martin up with this contraption because I want to make sure there's no pressure whatsoever put on his forearm. Do you have any ideas as to how we can modify the usual configuration to make this work?" Ed asked as the woman lifted Martin's arm, evaluating the restrictions that she would be dealing with.

"Hmm, I'm thinking that we could mould a piece that would extend to just past the *dip joints. We could then move the straps safely outside the fixators and extend the stainless steel braces down the underside of the new piece to support his forearm."

Mr. Christianson looked uncertainly at the prototype brace that Megan had brought with her. "I'm just concerned that the weight of his forearm will be enough to exacerbate the edema that we're already dealing with."

"We can certainly rotate it at the elbow to eliminate that problem. It would be awkward for him but we could make modifications later when the edema's no longer a concern."

"Okay, let's go with that. Sorry, Martin. This will be an improvement but still rather uncomfortable I'm afraid," Ed said as he moved to the bottom of the bed and pulled the blankets back. "I may as well check on this wound while I'm here, eh," he said as he glanced up at his patient. "Looks pretty good. We'll plan on closing that up on Thursday, okay."

"Mm, that would be good," said Martin, nodding.

"Well, I'll stop by in the morning... make sure all is still well, but I better get going and finish up with my afternoon rounds."

"Thank you, Ed," said Louisa as she watched him leave the room with Megan.

Louisa turned to her husband, "Now, what was it you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Martin groaned, "I embarrassed myself."

Louisa sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking her fingertips back and forth across her husband's chest. "You mean because I was cuddled up in your bed with you..._ husband_?"

Martin gently batted her hand away, "Yes, Louisa! That incipient othotist will probably exaggerate the entire incident and rumors will spread around the hospital!"

"Mm, rumors," she purred at him. "If rumors are going to spread anyway..."

"Louisa, I'm serious," Martin said a bit more calmly. "I have to interact with these people on a professional basis, I can't... "

Louisa began to walk her fingers up her husband's torso, stopping when she reached his face to trace his jawline. Then crawling up on the bed she took his chin in her hand and placed an amorous kiss on his mouth.

Martin tried halfheartedly to pull away from her. "Louisa... we shouldn't... someone's going to... walk in," he said, his voice faltering.

"Martin, I nearly lost you in a car crash. If someone wants to spread rumors because they see me loving you then they can _just-sod-off_," she whispered softly in his ear.

"Mm, yes," he said as he pulled her in next to him.

When Carol Parsons came to the room a short time later she found Martin sound asleep and Louisa curled up against him, her arm resting on his chest. Louisa raised her head up and put a finger to her lips. Carol set the container holding the lunch she had prepared for her friends down on the tray table. Louisa mouthed a thank you and Carol slipped back out of the room.

More than an hour later, Martin began to stir. When he opened his eyes, his beautiful wife was looking back at him.

"Hello, husband."

Martin yawned, "Hello... Mrs. Ellingham."

"Are you hungry? Carol brought us lunch."

"I _am_ hungry."

Louisa slid off the bed and went around to pull the tray table over to Martin. She watched him inquisitively as he ate the salad and sandwiches that their friend had dropped off.

Martin noticed his wife's fixed gaze. "What is it?" he asked.

"Mm, nothing," Louisa said, shaking her head. She hesitated, "Um, I'm curious Martin. It didn't upset you that Carol saw us in bed together?"

"No," he said with his mouth full.

Martin finished chewing his bite of sandwich and washed it down with a sip of water. "First of all, we weren't _in bed_ _together_, we were in _a_ bed together. Secondly, I consider it payback for all the times I walked in on Chris and Carol pawing at each other on my couch," he said flatly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Martin Ellingham, I never took you for the spiteful type!" said a smiling Louisa, thoroughly enjoying this rarely seen, more typically human side to her husband.

Walking over to the bed, she kissed him on the forehead. "You're quite cute when you're spiteful."

"Mm, I don't know about that," he mumbled.

"Um, Martin. When do you think you'll want me to head back home? I'm happy to stay as long as you want me here, but I should make some plans if I won't be back at work this week. And, I need to make sure things are settled with James."

Martin looked up at his wife from his lunch and Louisa detected an air of uncertainty about him. "Martin, I do _not_ want to leave here until you feel ready for me to leave."

"No, you should be with James. I'll be fine here now." Martin looked down at his lap then glanced back up at her before reaching for his glass of water.

"Hmm, why don't you think it over this afternoon... let me know at the end of the day," Louisa said, nodding her head.

"No... I think it's okay. I... I'm just going to miss you. But, you should get back... take care of things at home. Could you come back this weekend though?"

"I will most certainly be here this weekend," Louisa said, kissing him on the cheek.

She stayed with Martin for several more hours before heading back to the Parsons' to pick up her belongings.

"How does Martin seem to be doing, better physically I know but, emotionally..." asked Carol while she and Louisa had a cup of tea.

"Um, okay I think. It can be hard to tell with Martin. He says he's ready for me to be going back home, but I think he's going to feel pretty lonely."

"Well, you said that physiotherapy starts back in tomorrow. Maybe that will keep him busy... and tired out."

"That's very possible. But, would you mind checking in on him now and then... let me know how he seems to you?" Louisa asked hesitantly. "You've done so much already, I feel guilty asking even more of you."

"Oh, Louisa. We've been so happy that we could be of help through all of this. And a real blessing that's come from it all is our new friendship. I don't know _how_ long it would have taken for us to meet if it had been left up to our husbands!"

"I'll always feel a special bond with you and Chris. I know the night of Martin's accident took a toll on your husband. I can't imagine what it was like for him to listen to the play by play over the... I'm sorry," Louisa said as she reached into her pocket for a tissue.

"Don't apologise, it was much worse for you, I'm sure. But, you're right. Chris didn't let on to you, but it just tore him up to see the condition Martin was in when he arrived in the trauma centre. Those two were quite close friends when they were in medical school... well, after Chris broke through that tough shell your husband has. They drifted apart after they finished school but I'm hoping they'll make an effort to see more of each other now."

"Well, no matter what our husbands do, I intend to nurture the friendship that we've developed," Louisa said, embracing her.

"You know you're always welcome here, Louisa. This whole ordeal for Martin's far from over. Our door is open whenever you want to stay."

"Thank you, Carol. One day at a time," Louisa sighed.

Martin spent much of the remainder of _his_ day either staring out the window in his room or aimlessly flipping through channels on the telly, pausing occasionally to watch a few minutes of a programme before muttering a disgusted rubbish and tossing the remote onto the bed.

_Whoever coined the phrase 'it's a dog's life' had most certainly never spent two weeks tethered to the end of a leash_, he thought as he gave the sling entrapping his arm a sneer.

Martin let out a long sigh before the soft rattle of his door caught his attention. Chris Parsons walked in carrying a cardboard box.

"Hey, Mart! Carol told me Louisa had left you to your own devices here so I thought you might appreciate a few amusements," Chris said, plopping the box down by his friend.

"The latest BMJ," Chris said as he waved the journal in the air before tossing it onto the tray table. "Laptop and ear buds... chess set..." he listed off before stacking the items on the table next to the bed. "And this is something I happened upon a few years ago browsing a used book store in Plymouth."

He handed Martin a very worn copy of a book called 'A Horologist's Reference'.

"I would have given it to you before now, but I never really found an opportunity when I didn't think you would find it a bit overly demonstrative. This seemed like the right time. Thanks mate... for all you did to get me through medical school," Chris said putting his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Martin stared at the book in his hands, feeling pressure building in his chest. He felt as if the air was being sucked from his lungs and he struggled to catch his breath.

Chris looked at him with growing concern. "Hey Mart, are you okay?"

A flood of emotions washed over him and memories came flooding back with an overwhelming speed and intensity. He could hear Chris' voice, but none of what he was saying registered. Martin's surroundings began to blur and the light in the room grew dim before fading into complete darkness. The book slipped from his fingers and dropped to the floor below.

*The joints in the finger closest to the fingertips.


	62. Chapter 62

"Martin, what's going on?" Chris said, leaning over to put his ear to Martin's chest. The color had drained from his friend's face and his breathing had grown rapid and shallow.

Reaching over the bed, Chris pressed the call button several times.

He hastily removed Martin's arm from the sling before tipping the bed back flat.

"Martin... answer me mate!" Chris said loudly, shaking his friend's shoulder. He reached his hand out as a nurse came through the door, snapping his fingers several times, "Give me a stethoscope." The nurse slapped the instrument into his hand. "Call Ed Christianson, tell him that his patient's *tachycardic. And get a crash cart in here!" Chris yelled as the nurse went through the door.

Chris put the stethoscope to his friend's chest and listened. His heart was racing but he heard no abnormal heart sounds. "Martin, can you hear me?" he said as he pinched the back of Martin's hand, trying to wake him up.

A crash cart was wheeled in. Chris pulled up Martin's vest and slapped ECG patches onto his chest. "Give him 6mg. of **adenosine, he instructed the nurse standing next to him."

Ed Christianson's shoes slid on the floor as he rounded the corner into the room. "What the hell happened?" he asked as he came to Chris' side.

"I'm not sure. He's tachycardic... just seemed to crash as we were talking. He was looking at me for awhile but was unresponsive to my questions. Then he lost consciousness."

The two men watched the monitor as they listened to the steady beeps of the machine gradually begin to slow.

"You seeing anything out of the ordinary?" Chris asked.

"Nothing's screaming out to me but I'll get someone from cardiology down here to take a look. I'm concerned that this could be related to the hypovolaemia."

"Heart damage?" Chris asked. "Jeez, I hope not."

"I think we need to rule it out," Ed said, pausing to check his patient's temperature. "Normal. Well, he seems to have stabilised now. What were you two talking about... anything that might have upset him?"

"No, I brought in a box of things to keep him entertained now that his wife's gone back home... that's it."

Ed noticed Martin's fingers twitch slightly. "I think he might be coming around. Martin... Martin, can you hear me?"

Martin's eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. He looked up at Chris and Ed hovering over him, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"I'll go chase someone up from cardiology," said Ed as he hurried out of the room.

"Hey, Mart. Can you tell me where you are?" asked Chris,leaning forward on the bed rail.

Martin felt completely confused as to _where_ he was, in time or place, and began to feel a sense of panic.

Chris saw the growing apprehension in his friend's eyes and tried to reassure him. "Martin, it's alright. You're at hospital. You had a car accident and we've been taking care of you," he said as he raised the bed back up to a more comfortable position.

Martin's memories of that horrific night and the nightmarish days that followed began to seep back into his consciousness, and slowly the events of the last few hours replayed in his mind.

"I remember. What's going on?" said Martin, his mind still addled.

"You tell me, mate. We were talking and you suddenly seemed distressed about something. You became unresponsive to my questions then lost consciousness," Chris explained.

He pulled out his pocket torch and checked Martin's pupillary reflexes. Turning to move to the other end of the bed, his foot collided with the book that had been dropped on the floor. "Maybe it was the shock of receiving a gift from me," Chris said lightly, giving the book to Martin.

Martin looked down at the book, quickly handing it back to his friend, his hands beginning to shake. "Lay it on the table for me.

Chris noticed his trembling hands and the shift in his affect. "Martin... did my gift upset you for some reason?" he asked gently.

"No," Martin said impassively.

Ed re entered the room and walked over to the bed, putting his hand on his patient's shoulder, "Catherine Arneson, one of our staff cardiologists is on her way down. She's a crack doctor... knows her stuff. We need to make sure that the hypovolaemia didn't do any damage to your heart."

Ed turned as he heard someone approach from behind him, "Ah, here she is now. Catherine, this is Martin Ellingham. Don't know if you two have met, but he's the GP from Port Wenn who single-handedly saved our air ambulance."

Dr. Arneson held out her hand, "Well, Superman in the flesh! How can I be of assistance?"

The woman's gesture went unnoticed by Martin as he seemed lost in thought.

Chris looked at his friend suspiciously. He and Ed took turns describing in detail what had transpired with their patient.

"Maybe Chris slipped some kryptonite into that box he brought you, Martin," Ed joked.

The cardiologist looked at the ECG strip then pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Martin's heart.

"Well, I'm not seeing any red flags, but to be on the safe side let's keep you on the monitor over night, and I'd like to do an ***echocardiogram." I'll set that up for tomorrow morning, okay Martin? Martin, did you hear me?"

Martin turned his head slowly to look at the doctor and furrowed his brow, "I'm sorry?"

"I said that I'll set you up for an echo tomorrow morning."

Chris, Ed and Catherine exchanged glances before Ed suggested they leave Martin to rest for a bit. "Ah Catherine, you'll want to check in with physio before scheduling that echo. They're planning to be in to work with Martin in the morning... just so no one gets their toes stepped on."

"I'm going to sit with my mate here for just a bit, you two go on ahead," said Chris as he pulled a chair up next to the bed.

"Well... you want to talk about it?" Chris asked once he and Martin were alone.

Martin laid his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

"What do you think happened tonight, Martin?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders but stayed mum.

"Was it a panic attack, Mart?"

Martin reeled his head around and glared angrily at his friend, "How the hell should I know!"

"Martin... I'm only trying to help," Chris said calmly.

"I'm sorry." Martin snapped at Chris before adding a more civil, "Look Chris, I really just want to be alone right now. Just... leave me alone," Martin said, sounding dispirited.

Chris held his hands up in surrender. "Okay Mart... you win, I'm going to head home. You have my number. Call me anytime... day or night...if you want me for anything."

Chris paused at the door then turned around, looking back at his friend, "Goodnight, Mart. I'll stop by in the morning."

Martin watched the door swing shut before grabbing the basin by his bed and vomiting into it. He reached for his mobile, turned it off, and laying back down on the bed he relinquished control of his emotions, letting the grief and guilt that he was feeling wash over him. Allowing the tears to flow freely.

* Heart rate over 100 beats per minute

** Drug used to slow the heart rate.

*** Ultrasound of the heart


	63. Chapter 63

Louisa had tried numerous times to reach her husband's mobile Tuesday night, feeling somewhat frustrated that he had it turned off. He must be sleeping she thought. It had been a busy and trying day. She went to bed that night disappointed, but her thoughts quickly shifted to her responsibilities at home. She was feeling some anxiety about how she would handle everything on her own.

When she couldn't reach Martin Wednesday morning, she began to have concerns. But certainly, if Martin had experienced another setback Chris would have called to let her know about it. Once again, she pushed her worries aside.

Louisa rushed to get herself and James ready for the day before Poppy arrived. James was out of sorts, which his mother was optimistically blaming on their disorganized schedule rather than a brewing illness. She carried out the morning ritual of placing a kiss on the top of his fuzzy blonde head before dashing out the door and down the hill towards the school.

It was wonderful to be back at work. If she kept busy, Louisa could almost imagine life as normal again. But during the slower times her thoughts turned continually to Martin. She didn't have another opportunity to call him again until noon. She dialed his mobile as she hurried home to share lunch with James and Poppy, hoping to hear the reassuring sound of his voice but she still couldn't reach him. As she trudged up Roscarrock Hill she invented several plausible explanations as to why her husband had not turned his mobile on, or why he had turned it off in the first place. But the niggling doubts ate at her.

Louisa arrived back at the surgery to find an optimally nutritious lunch waiting for her on the table, and James playing contentedly in his high chair with a set of stainless steel measuring cups. He found they produced a glorious noise if banged upside down on his high chair tray.

"Poppy, this is such a treat. Coming home to a comforting hot meal and a happy child. I think my husband is the cleverest man on Earth for having thought of asking you to mind James."

"I'm glad you're pleased Mrs. Ellingham," said Poppy as she pulled her shoulders up self-consciously. "How is Dr. Ellingham?"

"He's definitely doing better, but his injuries were extensive and severe so he'll have a long period of recuperation. It could be at least another four to five months before he's back to seeing patients. We haven't even met with an occupational therapist yet. I'm not sure how he'll even get around."

"Crutches _would_ be tricky on the hills here," Poppy said as she spooned more strained carrots into James Henry's mouth.

"He won't be able to use crutches with his broken arm and the shoulder problem."

Louisa detected the confusion on the girl's face. "I'm sorry Poppy, I've been so absorbed in what's been going on at the hospital that I'm afraid I've been rather economical with the details of Dr. Ellingham's injuries.

He has fractures in both of his lower legs, his right femur... or upper leg, and his right arm. The fractures were severe and his surgeons were concerned about infection so they didn't put casts on his limbs. He has what are called external fixators... metal bars on the outside of his legs and arm that are secured into the bones with what they call pins. They kind of make me think of the clamps woodworkers use to hold pieces of wood together... except they hold the bones together"

"That sounds... it seems like it would hurt," Poppy said, shuddering."

"I know it does hurt, but he tries not to let on. Martin... Dr. Ellingham also had several internal injuries that required surgery, and there was a bad laceration to his left thigh. But, thankfully no spinal cord or brain injuries. In that respect he's very lucky... lucky to be alive really."

"I'm sorry for Dr. Ellingham. Tell him that I hope he gets well soon," said Poppy as she wiped her young charge's face with a washcloth.

"I will, Poppy... if I can ever get through to his mobile... argh!" Louisa said as she snapped her mobile shut again.

Louisa finished her lunch and hurried back to the school. She had been hiding out in her office all morning, partly because she had a lot of paperwork to get caught up on, and partly to avoid having to answer the endless questions that she would get about Martin's accident. So she tried to time her arrival back at the school so that the students and teachers would be busy in the classrooms, but as she was walking past Large's restaurant she heard Bert's jovial voice call out to her.

"Hello, Louisa!" Bert said as he shuffled up the steps, trying to catch her before she went on by.

"Oh, hello Bert. I was just heading back to the school. I'm really sorry but I don't have time to talk." Louisa tried to keep up her forward momentum, continuing down the hill. But, Ruth was approaching from the other direction, and stopping to chat with her gave Bert ample time to waddle up and start asking questions.

"How's the doc, Louiser? Everybody's heard about his accident of course, and I've been wondrin' bout him," said Bert in his most concerned tone of voice.

"Oh, that's sweet of you, Bert. Martin's doing better but he has a long way to go yet before he'll be able to get around well on his own, let alone get back to seeing patients."

"I had an accident once, no fun are those... no fun at'all. Oh, but that was before your time I suppose. You know where you turn onto the Deacons road? Well, there's a little hill just past there and a little past that hill there's..."

"I'm sorry Bert but I really need to go," said Louisa, interrupting the man as he prattled on. She inched her way towards the school.

"Oh sure, sure. Where are my manners. I'm sure you're very busy, what with the doc off his feet and all... trips to Truro, that little lad of yours..."

Louisa could see a growing impatience in her husband's aunt as the woman fidgeted uncomfortably. So she made her excuses to Bert, promising to fill him in completely when she had more time.

"Can you walk with me, Ruth?" she asked as they pulled away from the rotund restaurateur.

"Certainly, I was just wanting to find out how my nephew is faring. Continuing to improve I would assume?"

"Yes Ruth, he is. He's had a lot of setbacks and sometimes it seems as though he's not making progress, but if I look back to where he was a few days ago, he's definitely showing signs of improvement. It's just a two steps forward, one step back process. The infection in his leg has cleared, so barring any further complication's, they'll close that wound up again tomorrow."

"Well, fingers crossed then," said Ruth, giving Louisa a crooked smile.

"Ruth, have you heard from Martin recently... has he called you?"

"No, but then he rarely does so I wouldn't _expect_ to hear from him. I count on you to provide me with any information I should happen to need."

"Hmm, it's just that I've been trying to call him since last night and he has his mobile shut off. I'm sure it's nothing though," she said, more to alleviate her own worries than to convince Ruth.

"Well, I see you're off to the school so I won't keep you," Ruth said as she began to put distance between the two of them. "Say hello to my nephew!" she called out over her shoulder.

"I will!" shouted Louisa, rushing up the hill towards the school.

She had just reached the school gate when the students began to pour out of the building, followed closely by their teachers. Her impromptu conversations with Bert and Ruth had slowed her down enough to throw a spanner in the works. Running the gauntlet of questions, she worked her way through to the doors of the school. Retreating to her office, she closed and locked the door behind her. Perhaps the best course of action would be to call a meeting after school... answer everyone's questions at once.

"Pippa, would you please notify the staff that there'll be a brief meeting at the end of the day? I need to give everyone the information they're wanting or they'll keep asking about Martin. I don't have the time to be answering questions for one thing, but I also find it difficult to talk about it... I get emotional."

"I'll make sure everyone knows, Louisa... meet in the conference room I assume?"

"Yes, thank you Pippa," Louisa sighed, knowing that she now needed to allot time to prepare herself for a question and answer session.

As promised, Chris had stopped by Martin's room that morning. Tim Spalding was working with him and Chris watched, unobserved, as the therapist manipulated his friend's arm and legs. Martin laid quietly during the procedure, which Chris knew was painful and should be eliciting a response from him. He was growing increasingly concerned for his friend, something was not right. Chris waited as Tim finished up with Martin's session and caught him in the hall as he came out of the room.

"I uh, noticed that Dr. Ellingham seemed unusually quiet during your session with him. I know you don't know him very well but did anything seem out of the ordinary to you?"

Spalding took in a deep breath, "Yeah, he wasn't the same today as when I worked with him a few days back. I got no reaction from him at all today. There were things that I did that I know are very painful and there was no response whatsoever."

"Do you think he wasn't feeling it at all... or what are you suggesting?"

"Oh I think he was feeling it, the involuntary responses were there. He was sweating, trembling... Just no voluntary reactions. He hardly said a word to me the entire time I was in there."

"Well, Martin never has much to say, but I saw the same thing you did." Chris turned and looked down towards Martin's door. "I'll go and visit with him a bit, see if I can get anything out of him. Thanks, Tim," Chris said as he turned to work his way down the hall.

Martin looked over when he heard the door to his room open.

"Good morning, Mart. I just saw Tim Spalding in the hall. What time did they have you up this morning... it's only half eight now!"

"I didn't really notice, " Martin said, turning his head towards the window.

Chris looked questioningly at his friend. "Martin, something's going on in that brain of yours... it would help if you talked about it... you know that. It's not healthy to keep things locked away like you do."

"I'm really tired, Chris. Can we talk about this another time?" Martin asked as he eyed his friend uncomfortably.

Chris breathed out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, you won't talk to me. Will you talk to Barret Newell?"

"Just leave it be Chris... just... leave it be."

Chris folded his hands behind his back and leaned against the wall. "No Mart, I won't leave it be. You either talk to me or you talk to Barret, but I can't in good conscience 'leave it be'."

Air hissed out of Martin's nose as he felt anger building in him. His stomach had knotted up and his head was beginning to pound. He had laid awake all night trying to process his memories from yesterday, and he felt like he was being pushed... pushed to talk about something that he didn't feel ready to talk about. His brain had prevented him from remembering it for the better part of forty-five years and he was now expected to pour it all out to someone, having had less than twenty-four hours to come to terms with it himself.

"Come on, Mart," Chris urged gently but persistently. "What do you want to do?"

Martin erupted, grabbing at the water glass on his tray table and throwing it across the room in frustration. It struck the wall on the other side and shattered into pieces.

"Don't push me! Don't... push me! Please, Chris! Can't you understand that I'm not ready to talk about this?" he asked his friend, looking at him incredulously.

"I can't... yet," Martin said quietly.

Chris stared at his friend, unsure of how best to handle this emotional outburst. "Martin, I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have pushed so hard. I don't understand what's going on and I'm worried about you." He went over to his friend and sat on the edge of the bed. "You tell me, Mart... what can I do to help?"

Martin sat silently for many seconds before shaking his head and answering, "I think... I guess I could talk to Dr. Newell."

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, I'll give him a call."

Martin looked at the broken glass strewn on the floor, "I'm sorry... about the mess... for yelling at you."

"It's okay, Mart. We got it sorted, that's what's important." Chris walked over and picked up the biggest pieces of glass and threw them in the bin.

"I'll have someone come in and clean things up. Maybe you can get a little rest. How bout we have lunch together later? We could have someone get you in a wheelchair and I could take you out for lunch in fact... well, just to the canteen, but it would be a change of scene."

"Yeah, that would be fine... good," Martin said, mustering the smallest of smiles as an apology to his friend.

Martin only had time for a short rest before two nurses came and took him downstairs for his echocardiogram. He was back in his room within a half hour. Ed Christianson and Catherine Arneson stopped by a short time later to give him the results of the echo.

"You have a perfectly healthy looking heart, Martin," said the cardiologist. "I saw absolutely no evidence of *myocardial ischemia. We'll check things out again in a few months, but I really don't think we'll see anything different at that time either... you're just fine Superman," Catherine said, flashing him a reassuring smile.

Ed moved the blankets aside and pulled the bandage off Martin's leg. "I'm very pleased with the looks of this, but I hope you didn't have your hopes set too high on closure tomorrow. I'm not sure this wound is where I want it to be quite yet, so let's wait until Saturday for your procedure. Hopefully, this'll be the last of the setbacks Martin. How are you doing otherwise?"

Martin shifted himself uncomfortably, " I don't understand what you want to know?"

"Just a general question. You hanging in there with all of this?"

"Mm, I'm... fine."

Ed looked at his patient uncertainly. "You've been through quite an ordeal Martin and you have a tough road ahead of you. Don't turn down help if it's available to you. And, don't be afraid to ask for it either."

Martin relaxed into his pillow after his surgeon and cardiologist left the room and he drifted quickly off to sleep. He was awakened an hour later by an occupational therapist, there to help him into a wheelchair. By the time Chris arrived to take him to lunch the therapist had him settled into the chair.

Martin found himself feeling very vulnerable outside the confines of his hospital room. His still painful legs were much more exposed to possible bumps with people moving around him in the corridors and canteen. And he nervously guarded his body, ready to fend off any unintentional assaults to his injured limbs.

The outing proved stressful and Martin was exhausted by the time Chris returned him to his room. The two friends sat by the window for awhile, discussing the different options for easing Martin back into his medical practice.

"It's a long ways off yet but it's good that you're thinking these things through and setting some goals," said Chris. "I uh, spoke with Dr. Newell. He's planning to stop in this afternoon."

"Fine," said Martin, turning to gaze out the window.

"You don't have to talk about anything you're not ready to talk about, Mart. What does Louisa have to say about this? I'm assuming you've discussed it with her."

Martin rubbed his tired eyes and sighed.

"What, Mart? Did you two have a row over this or something?"

"I haven't told her," Martin mumbled. "I shut my mobile off after you left last night. I just didn't want to talk to anyone about anything so I shut it off."

"What... you mean you haven't talked to her since she left yesterday?"

Martin looked sheepishly at his lap.

"Martin, you can't keep things like this from your wife! It's the last thing you want to do."

"Martin groaned, "I've screwed it up again, haven't I."

Chris watched his misguided and very vulnerable friend. "Well, it wasn't the most brilliant decision you've ever made but I don't think it's the end of the world. Just call Louisa and explain what happened last night. But Martin, she's not going to trust you if you keep secrets. It never comes out well in the end. I speak from experience."

Chris stood and moved towards the door, "Let me know how the phone call goes. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best, my friend" he said as he left the room.

*Decreased blood flow to the internal organs, often the heart. The decreased blood flow can cause tissue death and organ damage.


	64. Chapter 64

An occupational therapist arrived shortly after lunch to help Martin back into bed. He found the use of the lift to be a frightening experience. A patient is completely helpless when in the lift, suspended in the air with the very real fear that operator error could send them plunging to the floor. Martin had never completely trusted anyone in his life. He had looked upon human beings as innately untrustworthy creatures that never failed to cause him pain in one way or another, and now he had to trust a total stranger to safeguard both his dignity and his physical well being.

Martin now found himself rising out of the wheelchair and swaying in the air, setting in motion a cascade of memories and sensations taking him back to that night in boarding school so many years ago, hanging helplessly out that second story window, over the concrete below.

Her patients obvious strong visceral reaction to the experience to the transfer procedure did not go unnoticed by the therapist and she made a mental note to discuss it with Martin's doctor.

"Alright Dr. Ellingham, you're all safe and sound again," she said as she straightened the blankets and pulled them up around him. I'll leave you to rest now."

"Yes... thank you," Martin said, trying to hide the waiver in his voice by clearing his throat.

Martin fell asleep quickly. Stress is tiring and he had been immersed in it for the last twenty-four hours. He was still sound asleep when Dr. Newell's arrival stirred him from his slumber several hours later.

"Sorry to wake you Martin. I would imagine sleep's a commodity that's been in short supply lately. I certainly wouldn't sleep well attached to all that hardware."

"Mm." Martin rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain.

Dr. Newell walked over to the sink and pulled a washcloth from the cabinet and ran it under the tap. He filled a cup with water and returned to the bed.

"Here, Martin. You'll feel better if you wipe your face off a bit and have a drink."

Martin did as his therapist instructed before handing both items back to the man.

The doctor pulled a chair to Martin's bedside and sat down. "So, is the infection well under control?"

"Yes," said Martin nodding. "Mr. Christianson will close the wound on Saturday."

"That's great Martin, sounds a lot like progress!"

"I suppose so," Martin said indifferently.

"Have Ed or Chris given you any idea as to when they might cut you loose?"

Martin blinked slowly and blew out a long breath, "Ohh... does it matter?."

Dr. Newell tipped his head at his patient. "That's not the answer I would have expected. Aren't you anxious to get back to your son?"

"I don't know... I... I don't know," Martin said as he rubbed the heel of his hand against the side of his head.

"Headache?"

"Mm hmm. I'm probably just tired."

Dr. Newell crossed his ankle over his knee. "Well Martin, I won't pretend to be here under some pretense that I'm checking in on your physical progress. You know why I'm here. But you must understand that I'm here only to listen, and only if you'd like to talk. If you want to spend the time talking about the price of wool in Scotland, it makes no difference to me. But, I'm here to listen."

Martin groaned softy. "I know Chris is hoping I'll spill my heart out to you about what happened last night, but I'll tell you the same thing I told him... just leave it be."

"That's fine, Martin. But, I would like to bring up a couple of points that I'd like you to consider when your trying to work through this on your own, are you open to that?"

"I don't care... go ahead," said Martin apathetically.

Dr. Newell uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm not at all sure about what happened last night, but from what Chris Parsons shared with me I would guess some rather potent memories hit you. _If_ that is indeed what you're trying to deal with, please remember that the human brain is very adept at filling in the blanks. Adept, but often unreliable. So what you're remembering could very well be historically accurate or it could be your brain very efficiently filling in the voids in your memory with whatever fits inside the parameters provided.

Please also keep in mind Martin, that if this is a memory from childhood, your brain was still developing at that time and not yet functioning like an adult brain. Children don't have the benefit of experiences that help adults to put the square pegs in the square holes and the round pegs in the round holes. So, they tend to either adapt the pegs to fit the holes or stretch the holes to accept the pegs.

Another thing to consider is that your childhood memories may have been shaped or distorted by how those around you reacted to a particular event. To the event _and_ to you. And, their reactions may not have been appropriate.

What I'm saying is that you shouldn't judge yourself harshly when thinking through these memories. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. I can guarantee that your wife and I will afford you that courtesy."

Dr. Newell watched as his patient sat mutely. "How much of this have you shared with Louisa?"

Martin shifted his eyes away from the doctor and picked at the edge of the blanket. "I need to call her... and apologise."

The doctor cocked his head at him, "Did you say something you shouldn't have?"

"No, I didn't say anything at all. I'm an idiot... I shut my phone off last night and I haven't turned it back on. I... I just couldn't talk to anyone, not even Louisa. I felt like I was drowning... like I needed to focus every ounce of energy on keeping my head above water. Like if I didn't stay focused, the emotions... the memories..."

Martin pulled in a sharp breath of air and tried to swallow back a sob. "I'm sorry... um, it felt like if I let myself be distracted the memories would take me under. I was awake all night... couldn't sleep at all. Then this morning I felt guilty for not sharing all this with Louisa last night so I put off calling her... still haven't called her and I'm afraid to now."

"Why are you afraid to call her? What do you think she's going to say... or do?"

"I didn't talk to her about this... she's going to be hurt by that. I know she'll be unhappy about it and I'm worried that... she'll leave... want to get away from me for awhile. This has all been a tremendous strain on her... I'm aware of that, and now I've added to it. "

Dr. Newell nodded his head in understanding. "That she'll leave and you'll be on your own. And at a time when you're very vulnerable as well."

"Yeah," said Martin, fighting tears.

"This is probably quite similar to how you felt as a boy, I would imagine. You were basically helpless on your own... couldn't count on anyone to be there for you... to be in your corner when you needed them."

Martin tried to respond but his throat constricted and the words were trapped inside his head.

"You're going to have to take a leap here. The trust that's grown between you and your wife in the last months is being tested, Martin. This won't be the last time that trust will be tested, either. But, every time you take that leap and Louisa's there to catch you, your confidence in the relationship will be strengthened."

Martin sat quietly for awhile before nodding his head, "Okay...okay, I'll call her."

"Let's discuss this with Louisa on Friday. I thought we could plan on our usual four o'clock time."

"Fine."

Dr. Newell slapped his hands down on his knees and smiled at his patient. "I think I'll go down to the canteen for a bit then stop back and see how you're doing. Can I get you anything while I'm there?"

"Mm, no," Martin said shaking his head.

The doctor left the room and Martin reached for his mobile and rang up his wife.

Louisa was preparing to head to the conference room for her meeting when her mobile rang. She grabbed it hastily off her desk and saw Martin's name on the screen.

"Martin? "

"Hello. Can you talk?"

"Martin, I've been trying since last night to get you! Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'd turned my mobile off because..."

"Martin, don't ever do that again! I was about ready to call Chris, I was afraid you'd had another setback or something!"

Martin could hear not only the annoyance in his wife's voice but also the worry. "Louisa, I'm sorry... I just... it's just that something happened and I couldn't talk to anyone."

Louisa paused, trying to think through what her husband had said and how she should respond. "Martin, you need to be more specific. What do you mean, _something happened_?"

"I remembered something and I just couldn't talk about it with anyone... not even you, and then I wanted to call you this morning but I was afraid that you... I was an idiot to cut you off like that."

Louisa swiveled around in her desk chair, watching out the window as the students began to stream out of the building to go home. "Martin, are you alright?"

"I didn't get much sleep last night, my mind was racing."

"I tell you what, I have a meeting in a few minutes, but when I'm done with that I'll come to the hospital and we can talk, hmm?"

"No. I don't_ want_ to talk about it... yet. But, it helps to hear your voice. I'm sorry, Louisa... that I turned off my phone," Martin said dejectedly.

"That you pushed me away again?"

"Mm," Martin said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry... I keep bollocksing things up."

"I do feel hurt that you couldn't talk to me... that you chose to keep to yourself rather than confide in me."

"It's not like that Louisa. I...I do want to tell you, I think. But... Louisa, I'm afraid of what you'll think of me. The things you wrote in your letter... I'm not that person and I'm afraid..."

Louisa could hear the emotion in his voice. "Martin, what can I do to help you?"

"Will you bring Ruth along when you come over for our appointment with Dr. Newell on Friday?"

Louisa hesitated. This was not the request that she had anticipated. "Yes, if she's available I can. But, why do you want Ruth there, Martin?"

"I'm... I'm not sure that I'll be ready to talk about this, but if I am... I just don't want to have to tell this story more than once... so please have her there... just in case."

"Okay, Martin. Can I call you later and say goodnight?"

"I'd like that."

"Alright, later then."

"Mm."

Martin laid his mobile on the tray table and collapsed onto his pillow. He was relieved that Louisa wasn't angry, but felt ashamed that he had hurt her feelings.

Dr. Newell returned with a cup of coffee in his hand and stood by Martin's bed.

"I called her, she's not angry but I hurt her feelings by not sharing this with her... by shutting her out."

"Well, that's understandable. Martin, yes... you do need to work on becoming a better husband, but don't try to be a _perfect_ husband."

"I don't think there's much chance of that," Martin grumbled.

"Well, you look pretty knackered so I'll leave you to get some rest. We'll see you on Friday."

"Yes. Thank you."


	65. Chapter 65

Louisa didn't have time to think about her husband's phone call. She hurried down the corridors of the school and entered the already filled conference room. She stood in front of her colleagues and began to speak.

"Hello, everyone. I know this meeting wasn't on your schedule, but if you could give me just a few minutes, I feel the need to clear up some questions many of you have about my husband's accident. As is typical of our wonderful little village, it seems there's been a lot of misinformation making it's way through the grapevine. So, here are the facts, and I would appreciate it if you could pass the correct information on to others... it would ease the strain on me a bit.

As you all know, Martin was in an accident almost two weeks ago. There have been several different accounts of the story being passed around the village... none of them accurate. So, if Martin's accident's going to be discussed amongst you, I would prefer that it be the truth.

Louisa inhaled deeply before she began to speak, "Martin was returning home from a meeting at the hospital in Truro and a large lorry crossed into his lane as he was coming across the River Camel bridge. The lorry driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and hit Martin almost head on. Yes, he was trapped in the car and yes, they did have to cut it apart to get him out. Somehow those two tidbits of information made through the rumor mill without being contorted in some way. He was taken by air ambulance to Truro.

Now, about his injuries... both of his legs and his right arm were broken. The lower left leg fracture and the forearm fracture were what they call compound, or open fractures. That means that the bones came through the skin. The tibia and fibula in his lower right leg, and his femur, the bone in his thigh, were fractured as well."

It was obvious to Louisa that her coworkers had come to the meeting eager to get all the juicy details about Martin's condition. But as she told the story, she saw their expressions shift to reflect the empathy that they were feeling for her, and she hoped even for Martin.

She paused for a moment to check her emotions, then continued. "He had internal injuries... his spleen was ruptured and his liver was lacerated. They operated that first night to stop the haemorrhaging, and to remove his spleen and repair his liver.

We had a terrible scare several days later when he started having breathing difficulties and they found his trachea, or windpipe had been lacerated. That meant another major surgery. I think Martin's had six surgical procedures, although to be honest, I've really lost track.

When Martin finally gets to come home, he'll have metal bars on the outside of his legs and arm that are fastened into the bones by a number of small metal rods... they call them pins. I don't know _how_ he's going to get around in this village. But if you see him out and about, the less said about it the better. Just wish him well and don't ask questions. I know that you'll look out for him and be there to help if he needs it. But, you know my husband, you may get an earful about it. He has a very long struggle ahead of him before he can get back to seeing patients, probably five to six months. But, he'll be pushing to make it in five, I'm sure," Louisa said, thinking of her husband's determined spirit. A smile crossed her face.

"Please...please, be encouraging. Martin's doctors didn't expect him to survive his injuries that first night. I know my husband's rather brusque manner rubs many people the wrong way and he's probably even insulted some of you by things he's said. But, he's my husband... and I..."

Louisa batted at tears that managed to get past her resolve to stay composed. "I love him dearly, and despite what many people think... he loves me... and is good to me, and he's a wonderful father."

Everyone in this room has benefited from Martin's medical skills, either personally or have a friend or family member who has. Please, remember that and remind others of that. Well, I think that's the gist of what's transpired... any questions?"

A hush fell over the room and Louisa began to work her way towards the door. A number of people came over to her, offering their best wishes for Martin. Louisa felt drained, but she had answered the questions and her desires had been expressed. Now, she hoped her beloved villagers would take her words to heart.

Louisa settled James into his pushchair that evening and they walked to Ruth's.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," Ruth said as she ushered Louisa in the door. "How are you getting on as a single mother?"

"It's a lot harder than I expected," said Louisa, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Martin does more around the house and with James than I realised. Thank goodness we found Poppy before all this happened," she said, giving James a little bounce on her knee.

Ruth set cups on the table and turned the tea kettle on to heat.

"Did you ever reach my nephew?"

"Yes, I did Ruth," Louisa said, swishing the tea bag up and down in her cup of hot water.

"And... were your worries justified?"

"I think they were justified. Anything could have happened you know," Louisa said defensively.

Ruth stirred sugar into her tea and peered up at her nephew's wife. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise, but I do know that Chris Parsons would have called immediately if there was any deterioration in Martin's health. So... it wasn't a medical issue, care to share it with me?"

Louisa adored Aunt Ruth, but found the woman a bit too forthcoming at times.

"Martin finally rang me this afternoon. Yes, you're right. He's fine... physically. It seems he remembered something that he feels unable to talk about. He said he couldn't talk to _anyone_ last night and he didn't get much sleep... his thoughts were racing. Don't bother to ask for more information than that though because I don't have it. I'm worried about him, Ruth. He sounded different today."

"Do you mean more tired than usual?" Ruth asked as she passed Louisa a biscuit.

"No, he sounded... defeated... like the life had gone out of him. He said that he's not the man that I think he is. I wish I knew what he meant by that, but I don't."

"Hmm, perhaps he's discouraged. It's been an awful two weeks for him, and what he has ahead of him must seem insurmountable at this point."

Louisa shook her head, "I don't think so. Martin's a very determined man. He's been wanting to get started with the physiotherapy... wanting to get everything he can out of it. I guess we'll just have to be patient and hope it's all out in the open soon."

Louisa glanced up at Ruth before laying her spoon down slowly and brushing the biscuit crumbs off of her fingertips. "Ruth, Martin has a request."

Ruth looked at her, eyebrows raised, "Well, go on. I can hardly say yes if I don't know what it is."

"He wants you to come with me on Friday to his appointment with Dr. Newell."

"Well, that's a relief! I was afraid he was going to ask me to find something that was buried in that old barn at the farm! My patients at Broadmoor could hide their victims in there and it would be years before anyone would find them," she said dryly.

"No Ruth, nothing as taxing as that," said Louisa as she stood and carried James to the doorway.

"In answer to your question, yes... I can come with you on Friday. Could be quite interesting!"

Ruth carried the pushchair to the bottom of the terrace steps and Louisa strapped James into it.

"Well, for your nephew's sake, I hope it's not too interesting. I'll pick you up at half two, the appointment's at four, but I'd like a little time with Martin first."

"Well, say hello to my nephew when you speak with him," said Ruth.

Martin had a fitful night. Disturbing images and voices interrupting his sleep. He woke several times, shaking and in a cold sweat. The night dragged on and it came as a relief when sunlight began to dilute the inky blackness of the sky outside his window and he could start to make out the colorless shapes of the trees and buildings.

Tim Spalding came to his door at seven and pushed Martin's limbs through the painful range of motion exercises.

"This should begin to get less painful over the course of the next several weeks, Martin. You're a doctor so I don't have to tell you that you're at the peak of the inflammatory stage with your bone healing. Everything looks great so far, no loose pins, and your range of motion is excellent, considering the severity of your fractures. We'll go easy on you for the rest of this week, but next week will get more intense, we'll push you harder so be prepared for that," Tim said as he stretched the muscles on the back of Martin's right calf.

Martin grimaced as the therapist pushed his patient's foot back a little farther before moving to his knee, stretching the hamstring muscle on the same leg.

As Tim prepared to begin work on his patient's arm, Martin asked, "What can I do on my own to improve the dexterity in that hand? I don't know if I'll ever go back to surgery, but I'd like that to be my decision, not the decision of some idiotic lorry driver."

Tim showed his patient two exercises that he could do while resting his arm on the tray table. "These are actually exercises I learned when I was taking piano lessons. They're very effective at stretching the tendons in the fingers and hand and they also help to strengthen the muscles and improve muscle control."

The therapists had been adding some simple muscle toning exercises that Martin worked through on his own several times a day, tightening and relaxing the muscles on the top of his thighs and pulling his toes towards his body to work the calves of his legs.

The orthotist stopped by Martin's room early in the afternoon to fit him with the brace that had been custom made to protect his damaged shoulder without putting pressure on his broken arm or on the fixator pins. Ed Christianson came down to give it his final approval. It was more comfortable than the sling but it was also bulky. There was also a piece that laid against his side, under his arm. The pressure on his ribs, left sore and tender by the thoracotomy, was quite uncomfortable. In the end though, Martin decided the new brace was an upgrade from the sling.

An occupational therapist came in shortly before dinner was to be served and moved Martin to a wheelchair. Martin still found the use of the lift stressful, but he tried to centre his thoughts on his wife and son as he was shifted from one spot to the next. Once he was settled into the wheelchair he found that it lifted his spirits to look out the window and especially, to feel the comforting warmth of the sun's afternoon rays as they met with his bare arms and legs.

Martin had come to know that if there was no menu delivered to his room before a meal, it meant that he would be seeing either Carol or Chris coming through the door soon, carrying a tray of food. It was, as Carol had promised, a daily occurrence, but Martin never knew which meal would be the special home cooked version or at what time of the day it would arrive. He grumbled and complained about it each time, but he had held up his end of the bargain and finished the daily deliveries with a calorie and fat laden bowl of ice cream, courtesy of Royal Cornwall Hospital.

Today's visit from the Parsons came in the evening and both Chris and Carol stopped in to see Martin. Carol watched, feeling a touch of disappointment as their friend picked away at his food. Chris had told her about the tachycardic episode that Martin had experienced shortly after he'd presented him with the book. Carol had also spoken with Louisa earlier in the day and was aware of her concerns about her husband.

Martin would never be described as outgoing, but Carol had always admired the fire in him that had helped him reach the top level attainable in surgical medicine. Tonight, however, that fire seemed to have been extinguished. Martin seemed withdrawn... distracted.

"I spoke with Louisa earlier, she said she'll be coming over tomorrow. Does she plan to spend the weekend?" Carol asked, hoping to generate some conversation.

Martin shook his head, "I don't know... I don't know what her plans are."

"Well, please let her know that she and James would be more than welcome to stay with us again."

"Mm."

The strained conversation continued for a few more minutes before Chris suggested they go and let Martin rest. He was alone with his thoughts again. Perhaps it was the sun's rays that had soothed his soul to some extent, or perhaps the company and caring of friends, but Martin decided as he stared out the window, watching people going on with life, that he wanted that as well. He would tell his story tomorrow. But would Louisa want to go on with life with him once she had heard what he had to say? He went to sleep that night with the terrifying image of life without his wife and son in his head.


	66. Chapter 66

Martin had another sleepless night, this time trying to play through in his head all the possible scenarios as to how Friday might end. He began to have doubts about the wisdom of telling Louisa what he had done. Martin couldn't imagine a scenario where she could see him in anything but a negative light. She was a teacher, a teacher of young children. He knew that she would be forgiving, but that wasn't his concern. He worried about how this would change her view of him.

Martin watched the clock as the hours ticked by. He had a session of physiotherapy in the morning and an occupational therapist came in the afternoon to discuss some of the problems that he would have to learn to deal with once he was home. Life would be different and both he and Louisa would need to adapt to a different lifestyle, even if only temporarily.

Shortly after half three Martin looked up from the laptop that Chris had brought him, to see Louisa standing in the doorway watching him. He felt his lungs fill with air, expanding his chest. He released the air slowly and felt himself relax. Would this woman always have that effect on him?

Louisa moved to Martin's bedside and taking his face in her hands, kissed him gently. "How are you?"

"Mm, better now."

"Kind of a rough couple of days?" she asked, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Martin sighed, "Just a lot to think about... worry about."

"Oh, Martin. The last thing you need to be doing right now is worrying."

"I can't help it, Louisa. I'm just... " Martin shook his head and tried to change the subject. He noticed that his wife had come in the room alone and was immediately concerned. "Didn't Ruth come with you?"

"Yes, I asked her to stay in the waiting area for a little while. I wanted to greet my husband properly," she said, leaning over and kissing him again, a little less gently this time.

"Mm, you did that already."

"Yes Martin, I know. I'm in arrears it seems so I'm just getting caught back up," she said as she laid kisses first on his forehead, then on his cheek and nose. Her lips finally alighting on his lips.

"I see. Did you have a good trip over... how was the traffic?"

"Fine... and fine. Ruth's good company so it seemed like no time at all to get here. What did you do today... or should I say, what did they do to you today?"

"Yes. Um, the usual... physical therapy, occupational therapy... they threw in a bed bath today," Martin said, scowling.

"That was nice of them. You do look very... presentable," Louisa said as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

They heard a knock and their attention shifted to the doorway.

"Hope I'm not interrupting, I know I'm running a bit early." said Dr. Newell as he strode into the room. "Feeling any better, Martin?"

"Yes, I'm progressing," Martin replied quickly before turning his gaze back to his wife. "Louisa, is Ruth going to come in?"

"I'll go collect her," Louisa said as she leaned over and kissed her husband. Martin gave Dr. Newell an awkward sideways glance as the color rose in his cheeks.

The therapist approached the side of the bed as Louisa left the room.

"Martin, we have a couple of minutes alone here so let's make sure that I'm on the same page with you about your session today. Do you want me to bring up the subject of your most recent memory?"

Martin leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "It's not that I'm not ready to talk about it... I'm afraid to talk about it."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know. I know that Louisa will be forgiving, but I can't see how this won't have a negative impact on how she sees me... the kind of man she thinks I am. And there's Ruth. I know how my father reacted to this and I would imagine she might have similar feelings."

"Well, you tell me what to do."

Martin sighed heavily and looking up saw Louisa coming towards him, Ruth following. He turned to Dr. Newell and nodded his head, "Yes, go ahead."

Dr. Newell left the room and came back with an extra chair which he place by the bed for Ruth. Then after locking the door he came back and pulled up a chair for himself. Louisa perched next to her husband on the edge of the bed.

"Well, we all know why we're here I think. Martin, before you begin, I'd like to remind you that we're just here to listen. This isn't the time for deep exploration or for judgments to be made. Things aren't always as they first appear with repressed memories, and everyone here needs to remember that. I'm in no way implying that you're not to be believed, Martin. I promise you that I will not doubt your story. But you remember the incident from your perspective only. A completely different story might be told from another perspective." Dr. Newell leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, prepared to listen.

Martin rubbed his eyes and drew in a nervous breath. "I guess I need to start with the day I broke grandfather's pocket watch. You remember that, don't you Ruth?" Martin asked, turning his head to look at his aunt.

"Yes, I do. Although, as you know, I wasn't actually there when it happened. I got all the details from your lovely mother a few days later. One would have thought you'd stolen the Crown Jewels!"

Martin turned to his wife. "I was at my grandfather's house with Mum and Dad. The adults were talking in the kitchen and Dad told me to go and find something to do. I ended up in my grandfather's bedroom and I saw his pocket watch on the table by the bed. He had shown it to me once and I was intrigued by it. I couldn't resist picking it up that day. I pressed the little button on the side and the lid popped open. I could see all the little gears moving together and I wondered if people looked like that on the inside... if opening the watch was anything like doing surgery, taking off the outside shell to reveal an array of parts underneath. I wondered if body parts were like watch parts. If one part stops working the others don't work right either.

Anyway, I wasn't supposed to touch the watch. Grandfather had made that clear. I missed hearing Dad come down the hall and suddenly I heard him yell, 'Martin, put that down'! It startled me and I dropped the watch on the wood floor. The cover broke off and the gears stopped. When I looked down at it laying at my feet, it seemed to be staring back at me. Grandfather came into the room and I felt so ashamed. He'd always treated me nicely, no hugs or kisses, but he was fair. So I felt terrible for disobeying him... disappointing him. I told him I was sorry. He leaned over to pick up the watch and he looked up at me. I could see in his eyes... he didn't hate me for it... he didn't even look angry. He seemed to understand that I was just wanting to learn.

After Grandfather left the room, I felt Dad's hand connect with the side of my head. I fell down. Dad grabbed my collar and dragged me out to the shed and used his belt to... I don't know why he was so angry that time. I think I embarrassed him in front of his father.

I told Grandfather later that I could repair the watch for him, but he just smiled at me and said I shouldn't worry about it."

Martin turned to Dr. Newell. "Could you hand me a glass of water?"

"Certainly, take a break when ever you like Martin," said Dr. Newell as he handed the glass to his patient.

Martin cleared his throat to continue with his story but couldn't get the words out.

"Martin?" Louisa took his hand in hers.

Martin looked from Louisa to Ruth. They were both waiting to hear what he had to say and Louisa was nodding her head encouragingly. Martin looked into her eyes, so full of love for him in that moment.

Dr. Newell could see that his patient was struggling mightily to move on to the next part of the story.

"Martin, think about what I told you the other day, you need to make the leap... trust that Louisa will be there to catch you."

Martin tried to swallow the massive lump in his throat before focusing his eyes on the church bell tower that he could see through his window.

"It was a few days later... in the afternoon. I could tell that Mum and Dad were building up to a row. There had been tension in the air all day. I tried to stay out of the way, but Dad kept pacing around the house and I couldn't seem to stay out from underfoot so I'd get shoved to the side. I wanted to just go and hide in my room but the maid was cleaning in there and she shooed me away. Mum and Dad's voices were getting louder... and angrier and I... it was frightening when they fought. The doorbell rang and Dad came storming past me to answer it. It was my grandfather. He told Dad that he wanted to have a few words with me. Dad snapped at him to go into his study, that he and Mum were in the middle of a discussion.

When we got to the study, Grandfather took a little box out of his coat pocket. It was a present... wrapped in nice paper and it even had a ribbon on it. When he handed it to me, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I wondered if I was supposed to give it to Mum. Then he said it was for _me_. He said, 'go ahead, open it'.

It was a pocket watch. Not an expensive one like his, but nice. He said it was broken and he was going to show me how to fix it. He pulled a book out from under his arm. It was called 'A Horologist's Reference'... a book about how to repair time pieces. The same one that Chris gave me the other day," Martin said, gesturing towards the table.

Louisa picked up the book and rubbed her palm across the cover. "That's what brought all this back," said Martin, staring at the book in his wife's hands.

"We sat at Dad's desk, my grandfather next to me. He pulled a little set of tools, wrapped in a cloth sleeve, from his coat pocket... the set I still use, and he showed me how to take the watch apart... how to organise the pieces so that I didn't lose anything. Then he asked me if I could figure out why the watch wasn't working. This was exciting for me. I'm sure most people would find it terribly dull but to me it was like trying to solve a mystery. And the best part was that I had someone who wanted to solve it with me.

Mum and Dad's voices were getting louder again and I turned around and looked towards the door. I think Grandfather could see the nervousness in my eyes because he tried to distract me... told me to focus on the watch.

I looked through the pages of the book and found a diagram of the type of movement my watch had and I studied it. Then I looked at the parts in front of me. I saw right away what the problem was. There was a tooth broken on the escape wheel. Grandfather looked so pleased when I was able to figure it out. He said that I was a clever lad and that... that he was proud of me.

The voices outside the room kept getting louder and I heard Mum call Dad a cheating bastard. That's when Grandfather got up and shut the door. He was walking back to the desk when he collapsed onto the floor. I sat looking at him for a few seconds... I didn't understand what was going on. He was holding onto his chest and he looked over at me and said, 'Martin come and help'. I ran to him and dropped onto the floor beside him.

He looked afraid. I'd never seen an adult look afraid before and it scared me. He told me to get Dad so I stood up and started for the door, but there was a loud crash. I could hear glass breaking... and then Dad's voice erupted and Mum started screaming at him to get out. I ran back to my grandfather and got down on my knees next to him. He couldn't breathe and he kept saying 'Martin, go get help'. But I was afraid to leave the room, so I just sat there... I just sat there watching him and he kept pleading with me to get help. I looked towards the door and wanted to go get my parents, but Mum and Dad's voices kept getting louder... and angrier. I felt trapped. Like no matter what I did, something terrible would happen."

Martin was breathing rapidly now, taking in ragged gasps of air. He paused, and closing his eyes, tried to regain his composure.

"I don't know how long I sat there watching him, trying to get up the courage to go through that door. Maybe ten... fifteen minutes.

Grandfather's lips started getting blue and I could see the sweat on his forehead. He kept pleading with me to help him."

Martin tried to stifle a sob that escaped, then he continued on.

"He coughed... and... and blood came up. I could feel the droplets when they fell on my hand. His face became grey and he opened his mouth to say something and... and... blood began to pump from his body... out of his mouth. He said 'Martin, help... me'. His words were hard to understand because he was making a gurgling sound when he tried to breathe. His skin had turned blue and his eyes were staring at me. His mouth was open and I could see his teeth... outlined in the blood coming out of his mouth. It ran down the side of his face and puddled on the floor next to me... I could feel it soaking into my trousers."

Martin was fighting now to get the words out between his sobs and gasps for air. "I was so scared. I grabbed the front of his shirt and started shaking him. I didn't want him to leave me alone in that room, but he just stared. He stared straight at me. I was clinging to him. I laid my head on his chest and I could hear his faltering heartbeat. I knew something was wrong. It should have been steady, like the ticking of his pocket watch. I watched the blood coming from his mouth, pulsing out with every heartbeat, getting slower and slower and less and less as his heart got weaker. And then the blood stopped... and his heart was quiet.

Dad came in after awhile. He yelled, 'Martin, what have you done!' He grabbed my collar and tried to pull me away but... I'd been gripping grandfather's shirt so tightly and for so long that I couldn't open my fingers. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I felt my fingernails ripping away from the fabric they were holding on to.

You know what happened after that. After Mum let me out of the cupboard, I went upstairs to take my bath and bin my clothes. Then I went and laid on my bed. Dad came in my room a few hours later and sat down next to me so that he could reduce the fracture in my arm. I asked him why that had happened to grandfather. He said, 'You want to know why that happened? Because I have a son who lacks even an ounce of sense, that's why!"

Martin turned to look at his wife. "I just sat there and watched him die, Louisa. I just sat there and did nothing. I let him die!"

* * *

><p>Dear Readers,<p>

I hope this chapter isn't too graphic. It may seem far-fetched, but I watched a co-worker die this way. Unfortunately, it happens.

This almost seems in poor taste given the chapter I just published, but I want to wish you all a Happy New Year. Your emails, reviews, and adding me to your Favorite/Follows lists have really encouraged me to keep writing. You've made the last two months of 2014 truly memorable for me!


	67. Chapter 67

Louisa sat, shocked by the story that her husband had told and fighting back the tears that had been threatening to escape. She wanted to take him into her arms and comfort the devastated little boy in him. Martin looked up at her and she could see the fear in his eyes. He was terrified as to how she would react to what she had just heard from him. Louisa's mind was racing, what could she say to her husband to set his mind at ease?

Taking Martin's face in her hands, Louisa looked into his red-rimmed eyes. " Martin, I can only begin to imagine what the last two days have been like for you, trying to come to terms with this on your own. It absolutely breaks my heart that I wasn't here for you."

Martin shook his head vigorously, "No... no, Louisa. I needed to be alone with this for awhile. And... Louisa, I need you to think this through alone as well. It's not as simple as it seems at first. This changes everything. Why you say you love me, why you say I deserve you."

Louisa looked at him quizzically. "Martin, this in no way changes why I love you! This takes nothing away from the qualities that I love in you... attract me to you. If anything, I think that you deserve me even more! Look at what you've done with your life despite all of this!"

Martin shook his head and looked pleadingly at his doctor.

"What is it, Martin...what's changed?" Dr. Newell asked.

Martin nerves were frayed, he was exhausted, and he was frustrated that he should have to explain this to them.

"You said in your letter that I deserve you... that you love me because I'd been cheated out of the things that every child should have... parents who love them... encourage them. How _could_ my parent's love me? Especially Dad... I let his father die! I could have done something and I didn't... I was a coward. I understand their hatred now. The disgust in their eyes. Ruth, he was your..." Martin said turning to address his aunt, but her chair was empty.

Martin's face fell when he saw that the woman had left the room. He released a resigned breath. "He was her father, too."

The devastated look on his patient's face was not missed by Dr. Newell. "Martin, try not to jump to conclusions. I spoke of different perspectives before you started to tell your story. Wait to hear what your aunt has to say before assuming that she sees this the way that your father did."

Martin let his head drop back onto his pillow and closed his eyes before he began to speak softly. "Louisa, I don't think my motives for becoming a surgeon were as altruistic as you believe them to be. I think I've spent my life trying to put things right... trying to make up for what I failed to do for my grandfather. I've been attempting to redeem myself. There's nothing noble in that."

Louisa cradled his head in her hands and forced him to look at her. "Martin, you were... a little... boy! A scared little boy. If this had happened to James, I would have taken him in my arms and held him... told him that it wasn't his fault."

Martin shook his head again and slapped his fist down on the bed beside him in frustration. "You don't understand what this is like! Louisa, I see my grandfather's face every time I close my eyes... every time I blink! His face is as clear to me now as if this had happened yesterday! All I had to do was open that door to Dad's study and call for help! It _was_ my fault!" Martin slumped back against his pillow again.

Now _Louisa's_ eyes turned pleadingly towards the doctor. She needed some direction.

Dr. Newell stood and leaned onto the bed rail. "Martin, remind me... how old were you when this happened?"

"I was seven. It was my first year at boarding school and I was home for the holidays... so I would have just turned seven," Martin said, rubbing his throbbing head.

"You're seeing this through your seven year old eyes... the eyes of a seven year old who had been physically and emotionally abused and emotionally neglected... a seven year old who's parents shifted their own culpability in this incident onto their son. Through no fault of your own, Martin, we have a snarled mess to untangle. It's certainly not something we'll be able to accomplish today, and to be honest..." Dr. Newell tipped his head to get a better look at his patient's drawn face. "...I think we need to wrap this session up and let you get some sleep."

The therapist waved his hand at Louisa, "Could you walk out with me? We'll see if we can find your aunt, Martin. I'm also going to speak with Ed Christianson or Chris Parsons about getting something to help you sleep. I'll stop by tomorrow and we can discuss setting up some sessions. We'll get this sorted though, Martin. Try not to worry about it too much," said Dr. Newell as he put his hand on Martin's shoulder.

"I'll be right back," Louisa said, giving her husband a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Ruth came in from the hallway as Louisa started for the door.

She noticed the concerned expressions on the faces of everyone in the room.

"Ruth, is everything okay?" Louisa asked.

"It is now. Sorry for the hasty exit... I'm an old woman, with an old bladder," she explained dryly.

The woman's remark provoked some smiles, but Louisa noticed her swollen eyes.

"Ruth, I think that your nephew thought you may have left because of what he told us today, that you may harbour some ill will towards him," said Dr. Newell.

Ruth made her way around the bed, Martin watching nervously as she moved closer. "I'm sorry Aunt Ruth," he said, averting his eyes.

"What exactly is it that you're sorry for, Martin?"

"I should have done something. Dad was right, his father might have lived if I had just gone for help. He was your father too Ruth," Martin said, afraid to look at his aunt.

"Martin, do you know what killed my father... your grandfather?"

"All the signs would suggest some sort of a pulmonary event, likely embolic or possibly an aneurysm."

"Yes... it was a ruptured *pulmonary artery aneurysm. Do you really think there was anything a seven year old boy could have done?"

"There was a chance that he might have made it to hospital. It may have started as a slow leak. I sat there next to him long enough before he died... there might have been time if I'd gotten Dad. You know that as well as I do, Ruth."

"Yeess... there is that possibility. But Martin, vascular surgery, as we know it today, was in it's infancy at the time. Must I insult your intelligence by reminding you that **Blalock had introduced his techniques a mere ten years prior to my father's death. Hardly established surgical methods."

"That's not the point! I should have done something and I didn't, for that I'm at fault!"

"Oh for goodness sake Martin! If there's any blame to be assigned here, it should fall squarely on the shoulders of your abominable parents, not on the shoulders of a seven year old boy!"

Martin sat quietly before starting to speak again, "Ruth, I do appreciate your being so generous, but I feel guilty for not having done what I should. And I can't get the image of my grandfather's face out of my head. I hear his voice. I'll always feel guilt for not helping him."

Ruth closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath. "I wish that I could take this burden away from you Martin, but I can't. But I can assure you that in no way do I hold _you_ accountable for what happened. I do feel heartsick however, for a little seven year old boy forty-five years ago who was abandoned to deal with this on his own. For that I am sorry.

* * *

><p>*A weakened area in the wall of the artery that carries deoxygenated blood from the heart to the lungs. The weakened area begins to bulge and if it ruptures the lungs fill with blood.<p>

** Alfred Blalock- American cardio-thoracic surgeon who pioneered vascular shunting techniques and shunting devices.


	68. Chapter 68

Dr. Newell walked towards Chris as he approached from the opposite end of the corridor. "How's our boy doing?" asked Chris.

"He's exhausted, can you give him something to help him sleep?"

"Sure, I want to consult with Ed first though. What can you tell me about his mental state?" asked Chris, aware that Dr. Newell would have to walk the line between a necessary exchange of information between doctors and violating patient confidentiality.

"Well, let's just say that he's remembered something particularly traumatic. I just let him talk today, but we'll explore the incident together when he's more rested and has had a few days to think things through. I suspect that a lot of the stress he's been under has come from the fear that Ruth and Louisa would have a negative reaction towards him about what he's remembered. My immediate concern is his fatigue and stress level. I don't want this to have an adverse effect on his recovery from the accident. He needs a solid eight hours tonight, I don't think he's slept much at all in the last couple of days."

"Well, from what I've seen since he was admitted, I would say that if you want Martin to sleep, put the lady coming down the hall in bed with him." Chris said, nodding at Louisa as she came towards them.

Dr. Newell turned around as she approached.

"Louisa, were you planning to spend the night with Carol and me?" asked Chris.

"Oh, thank you Chris, that's kind of you, but I'm not leaving Martin here alone tonight." Louisa stated adamantly.

Dr. Newell shot Chris a smile. Dr Parsons was just saying that he thought Martin would benefit from your being here... that Martin seems to sleep better when he has you with him."

"I'll have them move another bed in. You'll be more comfortable and you can be closer to Mart. And, Ruth can stay with us if you like, Louisa." Chris suggested.

Dr. Newell hesitated but then addressed his colleague, "Would it be possible for James to spend some time here? I don't want to put our patient at a higher risk of developing any sort of an infection, but if you and Mr. Christianson think it would be safe, I think it would boost Martin's spirits to spend some time with his son. It might also help him to see this most recent memory in a different light."

Chris paused before answering. From his perspective as one of the doctors caring for Martin's physical injuries, the thought of having a toddler around his patient did cause him some concern. However, the benefits probably outweighed the risks at this point in Martin's recovery.

"Let me bounce it off of Ed, then I'll get back to you. Would that even be feasible for you, Louisa?"

"Chris, that would make Martin so happy. I can drive back to Port Wenn and pick James up tomorrow."

"Ed has Martin scheduled for surgery tomorrow. He'll be closing up the wound in his leg, so he'll need to make the call on this," said Chris.

Ruth offered to drive Louisa's rental car home that night and relieve Poppy of her childminding duties. She would then bring James Henry over to Truro in the morning. Louisa asked that nothing be said to Martin about the boy's visit on the outside chance that something should interfere with their plans.

Chris called Ed Christianson to consult with him about a sedative for their patient, and to discuss the pros and cons of James spending time with his father. Like Chris, Ed was usually averse to having children, with their petri dish qualities, mingle with patients. Especially *immunocompromised patients like Martin. But given his emotional needs as well as the fact that his son was at home rather than in a childcare setting, they made the decision to allow the visit if one of Martin's doctors examined the boy first to decrease chances of an infectious disease being passed on to their patient.

"I'd suggest we up the midazolam to help Martin sleep. He tolerates it well and we know it's effective for him," said Ed, addressing the other area of concern. "I'll get that ordered up for him. He's on the theatre schedule for seven tomorrow morning. Should be in and out pretty quick as long as there are no surprises when we open things up. I would think by afternoon he'd be feeling up to company."

Chris and Louisa collected Ruth and he took them to the canteen to get something for dinner. Chris was anxious to find out about what was going on with his friend, but he didn't broach the subject. He preferred to wait until Martin or Louisa volunteered the information.

Ruth said her goodbyes before leaving Truro to return to the village. When Louisa arrived back at Martin's room, she found him fast asleep. A second bed had been moved in and placed against her husband's bed. Two nurses came in and helped to get Louisa settled and familiar with where to find all the necessities.

"Your husband won't have a need for the bathroom in his room so feel free to make use of it, Mrs. Ellingham," a nurse said quietly, trying to not disturb her patient. "We'll have to be in and out every couple of hours to shift him, but we'll try not to bother the two of you any more than necessary. Can I get you anything before we leave?"

"I think I'm fine... but, um... I didn't expect this," she said, gesturing to the bed next to her husband's. "I'm afraid that I could bump him in my sleep. Is this a good idea?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that. We've never had a problem when we've done this before. Dr's orders, Mrs. Ellingham, you must be very therapeutic!" the nurse said, flashing Louisa a smile.

Once she had been left alone in the room, Louisa changed into her pyjamas and crawled into the bed next to her husband. She laid looking at the ceiling, thinking about the story that Martin had shared that afternoon. The resiliency of children and their ability to cope with adversity always amazed her. After watching his grandfather die, Martin had done what he had to in order to move on through life, he erased the day from his memory.

Louisa imagined a seven year old boy, a shy and sensitive boy according to Ruth, trapped in a room with the kind of horror that Martin had witnessed. What she would give to be able to go back in time and comfort that little boy, give him a different future. She rolled onto her side and watched her husband in his drug induced slumber. Shifting her body, she nestled up against him, resting an arm carefully across his chest and nuzzling her face into his neck. For Louisa, this felt like heaven on earth. She closed her eyes and let his soft breath sounds lull her to sleep.

She woke sometime later to the rustling sounds of medical staff tending to her husband. She moved back onto her own bed and watched as they worked, checking Martin's vital signs, injecting something into his IV line and shifting his body to stave of the development of bedsores. He groaned softly in his sleep when they moved his legs and Louisa wondered how much pain he had been hiding from her.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep Mrs. Ellingham, I think we're done here now," whispered one of the nurses before slipping quietly from the room."

The nurses returned at regular intervals throughout the night, repeating the earlier ritual but adding the drawing of blood on their final visit to the room. This caused Martin to stir slightly but he quickly fell back to sleep.

The soft glow of daylight began to cast shadows in the room and Martin's eyes opened slightly. His face turned towards Louisa's, he watched her through a hazy gaze. Her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening completely. "Good morning husband," she said as he watched her, confused.

Louisa propped herself up on one elbow and smiled at him. She adored that look of befuddlement she so often saw on Martin's face.

He lifted his head and looked around the room, trying make sense of the confluence of the beautiful woman lying on the bed next to him, and his surroundings.

"What are you doing here?"

Louisa brushed her fingertips along her husband's jawline. "I'm keeping you company. And, according to Ed and Chris, you sleep more soundly when I'm in bed with you. I guess I have a sedating effect on you."

"Mm, especially when you ply me with wine," Martin said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. He buried his face in his wife's hair and breathed in deeply, reveling in her sweet familiar fragrance.

Pulling back to kiss him, Louisa saw tears in her husband's eyes. "Martin, is something wrong?"

He shook his head and opened his mouth to answer, but the words refused to come. Swallowing hard, he forced out a whispered, "No, I just missed you," before pulling her back to him again.

* * *

><p>*A state in which the immune system's ability to fight disease is compromised. In Martin's case, a result of both the trauma to his body as well as the recent splenectomy.<p> 


	69. Chapter 69

"Mmm, this is absolutely lovely Martin," Louisa said, inching herself over on the bed so that she could be a bit closer to her husband.

"Yes...what are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"

Louise tipped her head back, peering up at her husband, "I thought I was going to be staying."

Martin stared absent-mindedly at the ceiling before answering, "Right."

Louisa smiled, remembering a very similar, although more awkward exchange of words. "Of course I don't have to... I'll just head on home then, shall I?" she lightly teased.

"Nooo, I'd like that," replied Martin anxiously, holding his wife a bit tighter.

"Will there be cheese and apple afterwards?"

Martin glanced down quickly, a perplexed expression on his face.

Louisa smiled lovingly at him. "I was joking, Martin."

"I see."

There was a soft knock on the door before Ed Christianson stuck his head in. "Good morning, sorry to disturb you but I just wanted to see if either of you had any questions before we take Martin to theatre."

"Come on in Ed," Louisa gestured with her hand.

"How are you feeling this morning, Martin? You ready to give this another try?" asked the surgeon.

"A little apprehensive, but yes... I'd like to get it over with," Martin said as he tried to shift himself to a more upright position.

Ed put a hand under his patient's good arm and helped him slide himself back before raising the head of the bed. "Alright, I'll send someone in to collect you and I'll see you in theatre in..." Ed checked his watch, "... about a half hour. Louisa, we'll have him back in his room between half eight and nine. Fingers crossed that this is that last time you're in theatre for a few months, Martin. I'll go scrub up and see you in a bit."

Louisa waited until the door closed behind the surgeon before she kissed her husband and climbed out of the bed to go into the bathroom to wash and get dressed. A short while later, two male aides came and wheeled Martin away for what he hoped to be his final procedure for awhile.

Mr. Christianson was pleased overall with the appearance of Martin's wound. He cut away the nonviable tissue that had developed since the last time his patient was in theatre, washed the sugical site out thoroughly and sutured the clean tissue edges together.

Louisa was laying on the sofa in Martin's room when they wheeled him back in from surgery. She stood back and watched as the aides and nurses got his IV lines straightened out and checked his wound for excessive bleeding before elevating his leg and packing it with ice. By the time the room cleared, Martin was beginning to stir, mumbling in his sleep.

"I'm right here," Louisa said softly in his ear.

Martin struggled to open his heavy lids, moaning softly. Louisa caressed his cheek and kissed him on the forehead.

"Louissa"

"I'm right hear, Martin. They're all done."

"Louisssa... my leg...hurts," Martin said, grimacing and trying to reach for his iced limb.

"I'm sure it does, but you need to leave it be."

Louisa watched as her husband dozed off again. A few minutes later Ed Christianson entered the room to check up on his patient.

"How's he doing?" he asked as he removed the ice and bandage from the wound.

"He woke up a few minutes ago and was trying to reach for his leg. He said that it hurt."

"Ah, let me see if we can't make him more comfortable." The surgeon stepped out of the room momentarily and returned with a nurse who injected something into Martin's IV line.

"The procedure went well," Ed said, redirecting his attention to his patient's wife. "I was pretty pleased with how the wound looked overall. We'll hope it heals now with no more trouble from infection but it's possible that Will and Robert will feel a skin graft is necessary down the road. The immediate concern is getting those bones to mend though. Do you have any questions?"

"Do you think that he'll be up to a visitor by this afternoon?"

"We'll play it by ear, but I think he'll be a lot more alert by noon or so and we should be able to get the pain under control as well. I'll plan to stop in around lunch time and take a look at him and I'll give you a definite answer then," Ed said as he moved towards the door.

"Would you change the dressing on his leg please," he directed the nurse. "And let me know if that bleeding continues," he said over his shoulder as he hurried out the door.

The nurse finished up with tending to Martin's leg and left the room, leaving Louisa alone with her husband. She settled herself on the bed next to him, laying on her side and backing up against him so that she could feel the warmth of his body on her back. Opening the book that she had been reading, she relaxed.

A little more than an hour had passed when Louisa felt the pressure of Martin's hand on her back. She rolled herself over and looked into his groggy eyes.

"Well, hello sleepy head," she said as she brushed her hand through his hair.

"Hello. What time is it?"

Louisa propped herself up on an elbow, stretching up to see the clock behind her husband. "It's almost eleven... how are you feeling?"

"Tired... and a bit nauseated," Martin said, rubbing his eyes.

"Hmm, how's the pain in your leg now?"

"Better. Did Ruth stay at the Parsons' last night?"

"No, she volunteered to go back home and relieve Poppy of her duties."

Louisa watched as her husband's eyes drifted closed. He grimaced suddenly and she could see his body tense.

"Martin, if you're having pain you should let the nurses know. They can give you more medication if you need it."

"I don't want it, Louisa. It makes me nauseous... and it's hard enough to think the way it is."

"You don't need to think while you're in hospital you know. But, you do need to be comfortable so that you can sleep well. And I've been reading that pain can actually slow the healing..."

"I said I don't want it! Just... drop it, Louisa! Drop it!" he snapped.

Louisa took in a deep breath and she tried to set aside the sting that she felt from the harshness of her husband's words. He had really done very well controlling the anger and frustration that she knew he must be feeling with his situation.

She took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips. Martin turned his head to look at her.

"I'm sorry... I'm just getting..." Martin sighed heavily and pulled his arm up over his face.

Louisa stroked her fingertips back and forth across his chest, trying to ease the stress that she knew was beginning to overwhelm her husband. She felt a soft shudder go through his body.

"Martin... are you alright?" she asked softly.

Keeping his face covered he shook his head slowly. Louisa pulled her knees up under her and sat down next to him. She pulled at his arm gently, exposing the tears on his cheeks and wiping them away with her hands.

Leaning over, she placed her cheek against his, talking softly in his ear. "It's going to be alright. You're not on your own with this you know... I'm here, Ruth's here and you have Chris and Carol who care about you. Martin... you are _not_ on your own with all of this."

When she felt Martin's body relax, Louisa went to the sink and came back with a wet washcloth. He took it from her and wiped his face.

Louisa sat on the bed, her legs folded in front of her. Martin handed the washcloth back to her and she tossed it onto the tray table.

"Better?"

"Mm. Sorry... I, um... I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's alright, I understand."

"No... no, it's not alright," Martin said shaking his head vigorously. "I don't want you to think that I'm angry with you. I'm..." Martin huffed out a breath of air.

"The pain is worse again, you're tired and maybe... just a little bit discouraged?" Louisa asked.

"Mm," said Martin as he swallowed down his emotions.

Louisa caressed his cheek. "You have been so remarkably strong through all of this. You haven't complained, you've been so stoic... which I know you're doing for me by the way, and it's completely unnecessary... and you've been making such an effort to be nice to people when I know you want to lash out."

"Mm, don't get too used to the last one, it's just hurt to yell," Martin confessed.

Louisa furrowed her brow at him, "Oh, dear. Maybe you should warn me when it doesn't hurt anymore."

Martin dipped his head and averted his eyes in embarrassment. "I think you'll know," he said, picking at the blanket laying over his lap.

Louisa reached up and kissed his cheek, "I'll take it as a good sign then, hmm?"

"Yes."

A short while later, Ed Christianson stopped back in. "Well, it looks like you've come around nicely! How's the leg feeling?"

"It hurts a bit."

Louisa caught Ed's eye and gave him a sharp nod of her head.

"Hm, a bit or a lot... and I want an honest answer," Ed said firmly.

Martin threw him a look of annoyance, huffed out a puff of air and tried to push himself back on the bed. The movement sent sharp pain through his recently violated leg and his stifled groan came out as a very audible grunt.

"Okay... you answered my question." Ed unwrapped the bandage on his patient's leg, revealing the bloody dressing underneath.

Louisa turned her head as she felt her stomach turn. She could hardly stand to see her husband's wounds anymore. Not because of the physical appearance of them, but because she knew that they were causing him pain.

Ed rushed out of the room and Louisa heard a flurry of heated words before he returned with a nurse.

"And you don't think this is excessive?" he asked gruffly. "If I remember correctly, I distinctly said that I was to be notified if the bleeding continued! You haven't even checked this wound, have you, or you would have noticed the edema!"

The nurse opened her mouth to begin to speak but was cut off abruptly. "Don't even try... there's no excuse for this! Go and chase up Mr. Sturm and have him come in with a drain pack."

The nurse hurried off and Ed blew out a long breath of air, forcing himself to relax. As Louisa watched the tension in the man's face, she realised how stressful the life of a doctor could be. Ed was concerned for Martin and knew that the nurse had failed to do her job, potentially jeopardising the outcome for his patient.

A very youthful looking doctor came in carrying a tray of bandage material and instruments.

"Martin, we need to put a drain in this leg. You have more fluid build up in there than I anticipated... I don't have to tell you that it's causing you a good deal of discomfort. Damn, Martin! You've got to tell us if you're having pain!"

Ed looked over quickly at Louisa. "I apologise for my outburst. It'll be fine, Mrs. Ellingham, but we do need to get a drain in that leg to relieve the pressure."

Louisa held her husband's hand while Ed and Mr. Sturm, the on-call resident, inserted the drain into his wound. The men finished the procedure and Mr. Sturm left the room.

"Okay Martin, that should help a lot with the pain you've been having," Ed said. "Now... can you tell me why you didn't let me know that you were in so much pain? Come on, Martin. I know that hurt!"

Martin hesitated for what seemed to Louisa to be a very long time. "It's... my thoughts seem to be all jumbled. I feel like an idiot now, but I wasn't thinking about developing *compartment syndrome. I just don't want more drugs in my system. I want to feel like myself again."

"We're getting there mate, we're getting there. But until then, all you need to do is tell us what hurts, where it hurts, when you're hungry, when you need to pee, if you're having trouble sleeping... let us do the thinking for awhile. You're going to be a bit muddled for quite a lot longer you know. You'll have to relinquish some of that control you're so loathe to share."

Martin grumbled inaudibly under his breath. Ed moved towards the door, signaling Louisa to join him.

"I need to finish making my rounds, but I'll check back before I leave for the day," Ed said before slipping out the door.

"I'm going to grab a cup of coffee, I'll be right back," said Louisa as she hurried out to catch up with Mr. Christianson.

Louisa found the surgeon waiting for her down the hall and she looked up at him expectantly.

"Martin's feeling pretty discouraged, isn't he."

"He's trying to not show it, but yes, he is. What do you think about James?" Louisa asked nodding her head, tacitly encouraging the doctor to allow a visit.

"You have my blessing as long as Chris or I check him over first. I'll be anxious to hear how it goes," he said with a grin.

Louisa rang up Ruth to check on her whereabouts, and found to her surprise, that she was already in Truro. Both she and James were in the canteen having lunch with the Parsons. Chris had given James the prerequisite check up and gave final approval for the surprise reunion with his father. Louisa hoped his son would be the magic elixir that would help him to turn the corner both physically and mentally.

* * *

><p>* A condition that can occur with fractures where fluid builds up between the compartments that contain the individual muscles. The edema (swelling) causes pressure that prevents blood circulation and can lead to limb loss.<p> 


	70. Chapter 70

Louisa hurried down to the canteen to join the Parsons, Ruth and James for lunch. She found herself eating hastily and listening absentmindedly to the discussion going on between her friends and her husband's aunt. James was fidgety, wanting to get down and explore, tired of being confined to a car seat or the laps of the adults around him. Louisa stayed an appropriately polite amount of time before excusing herself from the gathering.

"I better get James down to see his daddy before he's ready for his nap... before _James_ is ready for his nap, not _Martin_... or... I guess it could be the other way around couldn't it!" she said as she gathered the boy and his belongings into her arms, feeling quite excitedly nervous about how this reunion would go. Ruth raised an eyebrow and gave Chris and Carol a crooked grin.

Louisa hurried through the corridors, hoping that James would be on his best behaviour. She slowed as she came to Martin's room and stopped to peek through the door. She could see that her husband was laying back with his eyes closed. Louisa put a finger to her lips and gave her son a soft, "Shhh."

She was intending to wake her husband quietly, but when James caught site of his father, he let out a loud squeal and began struggling to get to him. Martin woke suddenly and seemed temporarily disoriented, but once he had made sense of what was going on, a smile spread across his face.

"James! Louisa, what's James doing here?" Martin asked, reaching his good arm out for the boy.

"He missed his daddy," said Louisa as she tried to control her son who was struggling desperately to get to his father. She set the boy down on the extra bed and James scrambled quickly to Martin. Louisa made a grab for him, afraid that he could inadvertently do his father harm, but James had reached Martin's side and latched onto his ears before she could get her hands on him. Martin encircled the boy's body with his arm as the two touched foreheads.

Louisa watched her special men, seemingly in their own world for the moment. James finally loosened his grip on his father and plopped back onto his bum.

"How are you, James?" Martin asked as he brushed the backs of his fingers up the baby's cheek. James grabbed onto his father's hand and pulled it to his mouth.

Martin reached out and took James' purple dinosaur from Louisa and gave it to his son. Louisa watched with delight as her husband's eyes sparkled. Baby James had brought about an immediate improvement in Martin's affect.

Once the initial excitement of seeing his father had worn off, James' attention shifted to the tempting gadgets on his father's arm and legs as well as the IV lines running into his body. The electrodes and lead wires for the heart monitor, which had yet to be removed from this morning's surgery, seemed to be of particular interest to the boy.

"No, no, James... don't touch," Louisa said, holding onto the baby while Martin pulled the wires out of his hand. This injustice set off a firestorm of protests in the form of wails and kicking feet.

Louisa looked over at the clock and realised it was past James' usual nap time. She started to dig around in the nappy bag for a book but couldn't find one. Ruth had packed the bag before setting out this morning and it appeared to be an item that was overlooked.

Martin pulled the extra pillow over and patted the bed next to him. "Come over here James, we'll have a story," he said as he pulled Chris' copy of the latest BMJ off the tray table.

Louisa cocked her head at her husband. "That may have worked when he was two months old Martin, but I think he expects a bit more now."

Martin looked at her genuinely perplexed. "I think he might find it interesting."

"Hmm, there aren't any colorful pictures."

"Of course there are colorful pictures!" Martin said, rifling through the magazine to find a suitable example. "Here, this is a very well researched article on traumatic amputations of the upper limb... and_ very_ colorful pictures," Martin turned the magazine towards his wife to prove his point, causing her to quickly turn away, grimacing.

James reached out a chubby hand and grasped the BMJ, pulling it down to his lap.

"See, James likes it," Martin said, feeling somewhat vindicated by his son's apparent interest in the article.

Louisa looked sceptically at her husband, but sat back on the bed next to James, and picking up her book focused on her own, much more benign story. She kept one eye on the baby and one ear on the rather gruesome medical tale being read to him by his father. She felt James' movement next to her and looked over to see him laying on his tummy, knees tucked under him and his head laying on Martin's chest. Louisa watched as her son was lulled to sleep by the sound of his father's voice.

Martin yawned and laid his BMJ back down on the tray table before settling in to nap with his son.

Louisa finished the chapter she had been reading and laid her book down on her lap, watching her two boys. _Both _were so helpless and dependent on her now. Slipping carefully off the bed, she grabbed her mobile and snapped a picture of the pair, so relaxed together at the moment.

She heard the door open and hurried over quickly to quiet Ruth and the Parsons before they entered the room.

"They're both sleeping, Martin read to James from that BMJ that you brought him Chris," Louisa explained in a hushed tone.

"Put him right out I bet," Chris whispered back. "I sat in on one of Martin's lectures a few years ago... it had the same effect on me.

Not that it wasn't interesting! Mart just has one of those voices..." Chris added quickly.

"Why don't you let me sit with my nephews for a bit, dear. You go have a little break from this room," Aunt Ruth directed more than suggested.

Louisa looked hesitantly towards her husband and son, "Alright... just watch James, he'd really like to get his hands on Martin's fixators... and lines and wires... and he can move very quickly, so watch carefully."

"I will dear, you run along," said Ruth, guiding the trio out the door.

Ruth pushed the tray table aside and pulled a chair up next to the bed. She stared thoughtfully at her nephew and his son. James Henry looked so similar to a one year old Martin. She sat, trying to remember the first time she saw her young nephew. Her life revolved around her medical career when Martin was born and his arrival was a non-event for her. She hadn't the time for things so trivial as family matters. She first met the not so new baby when he was slightly younger than James. Her mother had died and the family had of course gathered for the ritualistic expressions of sorrow. There had been a gathering at Christopher and Margaret's and the nanny had been instructed to parade the boy through the crowd of mourners. All the appropriate oohs and ahs were made before he was whisked off, out of sight again.

The next time that she could remember seeing Martin was at his father's graduation from medical school. Again, a family gathering where the child was befittingly put on display for all the celebrants to fawn over. She rarely saw her nephew until he was a bit older and was no longer confined to the nursery. A shy and sensitive four year old, hiding behind the full skirt of whichever nanny happened to be in employ at the time.

Ruth accepted a residency position at a mental health facility in Manchester which meant that she went a period of time without seeing her brother's progeny. She had just moved back to London to take a position on staff at Broadmoor Hospital when her father died.

Baby James began to stir, raising his head up to look around. Ruth hurried to pick the child up before he woke his father and carried him out to the corridor with her, searching for his mother. Louisa was talking with Ed Christianson when she spotted Ruth and wrapped up the conversation so that she could relieve Martin's aunt of her childminding duties.

"My boys are awake I see," she said as she reached for her son.

"Only one actually. The big one's still sleeping."

Martin began to stir shortly after Ruth left with James. He looked about the room in a state of confusion. He thought at first that his son's presence had been but a blissful dream, but the physical sensation of the boy's small head pressed against his chest seemed real. Martin cursed the drugs in his system for the unpleasant side effects that he was feeling. Had James been there and fallen off the bed?

Martin tried to wake himself completely but he just couldn't shake the drug induced haze that he was trying to see through. He called out to the boy but heard none of the usual baby chatter that his father's voice normally elicited. Martin looked around frantically for the call button, spotting it on the tray table which had been moved over and was now out of reach. The longer Martin worried about James' whereabouts, the more convinced his muddled mind became that something terrible had happened to his son.

He began to fear that perhaps his mother had taken the boy, and panic set in. What was she doing with his son! Martin's mind started to incorporate the memories of his mother's recent visit with possible dangers to James. He could picture his mother's hand that morning at the surgery, grabbing at his wrist as he reached to pick a plate up from the kitchen table... the rapid withdrawal of his arm, an involuntary attempt to protect himself from the same kind of pain that she caused him as a child. The pain of being dragged to the cabinet by his broken arm.

Martin pulled at the bed rail, trying in vain to lower it so that he might be able to reach the call button. Failing at that attempt, he turned his efforts to dragging himself across the spare bed to his left. His elevated leg dropped off the foam block that it had been resting on, sending a deep tearing sensation through that limb.

The intensity of it seemed to suck the air from his lungs and he struggled to get his chest to expand enough to pull in the oxygen that his body was telling him it needed. The pain began to abate as did the spasms in his diaphragm, and he used his left arm to pull himself to the edge of the bed. Looking around below him, he still could not find his son.

Martin was desperate now and managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He attempted to stand but his weakened legs would not support him and he fell to the floor. He cried out in agony as the impact with the floor sent signals screaming through his nerve fibers.

Louisa and Ruth were approaching Martin's room when they heard him cry out. Louisa handed James to Ruth and ran to her husband while Ruth hurried to the nurses station to get assistance.

Dropping to the floor, Louisa wrapped her arms around Martin, trying to keep him from thrashing about, causing himself further injury.

Ed Christianson raced down the hall and into his patient's room. Two male aides followed closely behind. The IV feeding the morphine into Martin's body had been ripped out so Ed established a new line and gave his patient 10mg of Brevital, a very fast acting, short duration sedative. Martin lost consciousness almost immediately and the hospital staff were able to get him back into bed.

Ed examined his patient thoroughly, head to toe. Checking all of his wounds for torn sutures and the tightness of the pins in his fractured bones.

He finally turned to Louisa, who had been standing back out of the way fearing the worst for her husband. "Well, I'm not seeing that he's done himself any damage but I'm sending him down to CT all the same. We'll see what the pictures tell us. Do you know what happened here?"

Louisa shook her head, "He was napping with James. When James woke up, Ruth took him down the hall to me so that he wouldn't wake Martin. No... I don't know what happened!"

Martin began to move, wakefulness returning. He looked wildly about, his eyes landing on his wife.

"Louisa, James... my mother has James! Get James, Louisa. She'll hurt him!"

"Martin, Ruth has James. He's just outside in the hallway," Louisa said, rubbing her husband's arm gently.

Martin pulled away from her and tried to sit up. "She'll hurt him, Louisa. You have to get him away from her!"

Ed tried to push Martin back down onto the bed but he continued to fight him.

"Go get James, Louisa. He needs to see him," Ed said as he tried to calm his patient.

Louisa hurried back to her husband, their son in her arms.

Martin crumpled back, his head dropping onto the pillow. "I thought she had him... I thought she'd taken him," he said tearfully.

"I suspect your husband's having an adverse reaction to the analgesics. We'll have to address this... try something different with him. We'll leave things alone for now, but we'll make sure someone's with him at all times." Ed looked apologetically at Louisa. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Ellingham. This sort of a reaction can be upsetting to witness."

"He's alright then?" Louisa asked hesitantly.

"I believe so, but we'll get him down to CT, then we'll know for sure."

Louisa reached over to wipe the tears from Martin's face. "It's alright Martin, James is perfectly safe."

Martin reached his arm out and pulled at his son. Louisa set him down beside his father and the boy gave him a now _partially_ toothless smile. Louisa could see her husband's body relax and a hint of the sparkle in his eyes returning.


	71. Chapter 71

Louisa watched her son as he played on the bed next to his father, his simple presence doing more to ease her husband's anxieties than her words ever could.

Ruth had explained to her that as Martin's body had adjusted to the morphine he had been on, a higher dose needed to be administered to produce the same level of pain relief. After his surgery earlier in the day, the dose had been increased even further in an effort to keep him reasonably comfortable. This higher dose had brought about the anxiety and confusion that had led to his panic over the whereabouts of his son.

Although her husband's irrational concern for his son's safety had been medically induced, Louisa knew that Martin's fear that his mother could cause harm to their son was genuine and justified. He had experienced the woman's cruelty first hand and it sickened her to think about what life must have been like for a young Martin Ellingham.

Louisa crawled across the bed and put her arms around Martin, pulling his head to her chest and burying her face in his hair.

"I hope that you can feel how very much I love you," she said, holding him tightly.

"Louisa, is something wrong?" Martin asked apprehensively.

She released her grip on him, pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "No... I love you very much and I just wanted to make that crystal clear. And, I don't want you to just hear me say the words Martin... I want you to be able to feel how loved you are."

Martin stared at his wife, his eyes growing moist. "I... love you too," he replied hoarsely.

Louisa kissed him deeply before relaxing back onto the bed, returning her attention to her son.

"Louisa?" Martin said, eyes on his lap as he gently rubbed at the aching laceration on his thigh.

"Hmm?"

He peered up shyly at his wife, "I'm not completely sure I felt it. Maybe you should try again?"

Getting back up on her knees, she again pulled him to her, kissing the top of his head. She felt his chest expand slowly before finally relaxing as he let the air flow freely from his lungs, and she was quite sure that this time, he felt it.

Around half three, two aides came and wheeled Martin off to radiology, not returning him to his room until nearly an hour later.

He was irritable, snapping at the nurses for their "incessant interference and inane questions". Ed Christianson stopped in a short time later to update them on the results of the CT scans.

"Sorry to have kept your husband away so long, Mrs. Ellingham. The change in his surroundings seemed to exacerbate his confusion and he wasn't the most cooperative. Sorry Martin, didn't mean to grass you up," Ed said as he turned towards his patient.

"But, we managed and everything looked good on your scans, Martin. We did however, discover several additional fractures that we'd missed before. It didn't come as a great surprise to see fractures to your sixth and seventh ribs on the left side. The seat belt got you there."

Ed could see the growing concern on Louisa's face and quickly added, "With the lung contusions rib fractures would be expected, Mrs. Ellingham.

We also found you have a fractured clavicle. Again... not a great surprise given the problems that you have with your shoulder as well as the trauma to that arm. All of the fractures that we discovered today are non-displaced and given the severity of your other injuries are really nothing we're concerned about. Just more boxes to tick in your fracture column Martin. But, the good news is that there was no additional damage done by your tumble to the floor today. Let me know immediately if you develop any new or worsening symptoms though."

Mr. Christianson took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "Now, the issue of your pain meds... after giving this some thought, I'm inclined to stick with the morphine a bit longer... wait and see if the problems you've been having with confusion and anxiety don't resolve themselves once we cut back on your dosage again. You've been tolerating it well overall, now that your body's adjusted to the drug. And... well, if it works don't fix it, right?"

Louisa shook her head, "I don't know... what if he tries to get out of bed again. I don't want him hurting himself."

"I understand your concern. We'll have someone with him at all times to make sure that doesn't happen," Ed said as he rose from his chair.

"Any other questions?"

"No, I don't think so," Louisa said, smiling appreciatively.

Ed glanced over at his patient. "Martin?"

"When can I go home?"

Ed blew out a long breath of air, "Oh, Martin. I know you've got to be getting tired of all this, but you need more work with the physio people and we need to get an occupational therapist in here."

"I'm willing to hire people to work with me at home, Ed... I want to go home," Martin said pleadingly.

"Let's see how things are going at the end of the week and revisit this then, okay?"

As soon as the surgeon had left the room, Louisa slid to Martin's side and took his hand in hers, tracing over the indentation where his wedding band usually resided.

"You'll get home, Martin. You don't want to rush things, it'll be more difficult there you know. There are a lot of people to help you out here and to be honest, I'm a bit scared about whether I'll be able to take care of you properly at home."

Louisa couldn't quite read the expression that spread over her husband's face. Perhaps a mix of disappointment and surprise.

Martin swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking at all about what this will be like for you. You have James to take care of, and your... and your job at the school. I just wasn't thinking."

Louisa turned his face towards hers. "I want you home as soon as possible. But, we need to trust Ed and Chris to tell us when the time's right. I just want the best possible care for you, Martin. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Mm, yes."

"A thought so."

Ruth took James Henry back to the Parsons' with her for the night and Louisa stayed with her husband. A nurse got Martin settled, giving him a slightly higher narcotic dose as per Mr. Christianson's orders.

"It's just to ease his discomfort a bit more so that he can get a better rest," the nurse explained. "If you need to leave his side for any reason, even if it's just to use the loo, be sure you call us. Wait until someone comes in... don't leave him on his own," she said emphatically.

"No, no. I won't," Louisa assured the woman. After what had happened earlier, she was not going to let Martin out of her sight.

Louisa was awakened in the middle of the night by the movements of her husband next to her. Even in the darkened room she could see that he was awake and trying to sit up.

"Martin, is everything alright?"

He turned his head quickly towards her. "What are you doing!" he asked, seemingly startled by her presence and very obviously confused.

"Martin, it's me... Louisa... you're at hospital. Do you remember? You were in an accident."

Martin was trying to push the blankets back, attempting to pull his feet up. But lacking the strength to do so, he flopped back down onto his pillow. "I need the loo."

"Remember... you can't get out of bed," she said, pulling the blankets back up over his legs.

Snatching them away from her, he pushed them back down and rolled to his side. "I _need_ to pee!"

Louisa scrambled down and grabbed the plastic urinal from the lavatory, keeping one eye on her husband.

Turning the light on beside his bed, Louisa began to pull the blankets back a bit more.

Martin looked at her, wide eyed and embarrassed. "Louisa! For God's sake, at least turn around!"

Louisa planted her feet and folded her arms in front of her. "I'm NOT taking my eyes off of you Martin Ellingham. Now just... pee. Or do you need help?" she added teasingly.

"Never mind, I can wait," Martin said, handing the object back to his wife.

"Oh, Martin! It's not like you've got something down there that I haven't seen before... but, if it'd make you feel better I'll call a nurse and _she_ can watch you." Louisa reached for the call button but Martin slapped his hand down on it first.

"Okay... you can watch." he said softly.

"How bout I keep my eyes on the wall behind you?"

"Mm, yes," Martin said, his discomfort with the situation apparent.

He finished taking care of the necessities and Louisa returned the source of her husband's humiliation to the lavatory.

Turning out the light, the pair settled back in and dozed off quickly. She awoke some time later, aware that Martin was watching her.

"Everything okay?" she asked him.

"You're very beautiful," he said sleepily.

"Thank you, Martin."

"Did you know that I stayed here because of you?" he asked her, his brow furrowed.

Louisa propped herself up on an elbow and stroked a finger down the side of her husband's face. "I'm not sure what you mean. After the thing with Mrs. Tishell?"

Martin cocked his head at her, "Hmm?"

"Explain what you mean... that you stayed because of me."

"After my first week here. I bollixed things up so badly that I was going to leave. I was even packing my things in boxes again. But, I saw you through the window of the school and I started to have second thoughts. Then I was looking across the harbour... at you, and I decided I was going to stay... and I was going to marry you someday."

"Ohhh, Martin... I _didn't_ know that." Louisa reached over and cupped her hand on his cheek.

"Um... I was wondering... if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime?" Martin averted his eyes, glancing back shyly.

Louisa looked at the man beside her, perplexed. "You're asking me out... on a date?"

"I'm sorry... I don't know..." Martin shook his head, trying to remember what he had just said.

"Martin, I think that head of yours is a bit fuzzy." Louisa smiled at the confused boyish face in front of her. "But, I kind of like your head a bit fuzzy. I think there's something to be said for adverse effects. Now, I think you should go back to sleep," she said, planting a light kiss on his nose before settling back in next to him.

"Mm, yes."

"Martin?"

"Mm hmm?" Martin turned his head to look at her.

"If that offer still stands, I would very much like to have dinner with you sometime."


	72. Chapter 72

Louisa sat on the bed next to her husband. As far as she could tell, Martin remembered nothing of their conversations the night before. Ed stopped in and said that he had given the nurses instructions to begin tapering the pain medication that Martin was receiving. They would reevaluate the situation once they had reached the minimum dosage needed to keep him comfortable.

"I want you to tell someone if your pain increases to a three or higher on the pain scale, is that understood?" Ed asked firmly.

Martin mumbled inaudibly but when Louisa shot him a stern look he gave his doctor a sharp, "Yes."

"Good. Martin, I'm going to have the P.T. people come in again today and we're also going to start in more seriously with the occupational therapy. I know that you're anxious to get home, but you need to be at least somewhat ambulatory first. I don't want any weight bearing activities on those legs just yet, but perhaps by the end of the week we'll get you up on a walker. Once you can get yourself in and out of a wheelchair, I'll consider letting you leave."

Louisa could see the eagerness in her husband's eyes to get started with the process that would get him home with his family. Ed Christianson could see it as well.

"Martin, I see that look. Do not overdo with all of this. I know that you're an all or nothing kind of guy but you need to be careful or you'll set yourself back. I've already told the physio people that they won't need to push you, but they'll be watching that you don't get carried away."

Ed turned his attention to Louisa. "How does Martin seem to be doing this morning? Is the confusion any better today?"

"Yes he's better this morning, but there was a bit of confusion overnight," she said as a small smile crept across her face.

Martin gave her a questioning look but she just smiled back at him and patted his arm.

"I'll be in tomorrow to remove some of your sutures. You're making progress Martin... we'll get you home soon. Oh, I spoke with Barrett Newell. He didn't want to interrupt your time with your son yesterday so he's going to stop by today to check up on you. Alright then... I'll leave you two alone," said the surgeon as he headed out the door.

The Parsons, along with Ruth and James, arrived a short time later with breakfast for everyone.

Carol walked over to Louisa and handed her several story books, no longer needed by their now teen-aged children. "I understand James could use some _appropriate_ reading material," she said, shaking her head in disbelief at Martin.

Chris shrugged his shoulders as he and his friend looked at one another, bewildered.

Martin's appetite had picked up again and Carol and Ruth delighted in seeing him tuck into the full plate of scrambled eggs that had been placed in front of him. His weight was still down from where it had been before his accident, but he had gained two kilos since the Parsons had been supplementing the meals provided by the hospital.

"How are the plans for the changes to the farm progressing, Ruth?" Martin asked as he spread jelly on his toast.

"Well, we're coming along with getting the contractors lined up. Al's really very particular about these things... and he knows his stuff! Especially about plumbing. He's been able to do much of that work himself. You'll have to come out and take a look around when you get out of here," Ruth said, pointing her fork at her nephew.

Having finished his breakfast, Chris leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Have you given any thought to how you'll get around the surgery once you're at home Mart? I can't see you taking those stairs two at a time for awhile."

"Mm, I've been doing_ a lot_ of thinking about that, and Louisa and I have talked about it." Martin glanced over at his wife as she nodded her head in agreement. "If patients are going over to Wadebridge for the time being then we can use the consulting room as a bedroom temporarily. I'm hopeful that with a bit of hard work I can get things back to normal fairly quickly."

Chris looked at him dubiously, "Yeah, well don't go overboard. Ed and I were talking about this the other day. You do have a tendency to throw yourself into whatever project you happen to have going at the moment, but getting back on your feet is a _big_ project. You won't be able to do this on your own you know."

Martin's aunt waggled her finger at her nephew, "You know Martin, you're going to have to learn to accept help from people now... and it's going to be a very steep learning curve given your tendency to shut others out."

"Yes... I'm aware of that."

"And you'll need to be gracious about it or you'll find yourself stranded at the bottom of Roscarrock Hill because no one will be willing to risk incurring your wrath to offer you assistance." Ruth gathered her dirty dishes together and placed them on the cart that had been wheeled into the room.

"Yes Aunt Ruth, I'm perfectly capable of being civil... when it's required." Martin rubbed his palm against the rapidly growing ache in his forehead.

"I'm merely pointing out a few simple truths. There will be times when you'll not only need to accept help, but you'll need to ask for it... that won't be easy for you. I just want you to be prepared for this."

Martin scowled at his aunt. "Are you finished?"

"Oh, I could go on, but I'll stop there," Ruth said dryly.

Martin rolled his eyes before focusing them on the door to his room, mentally willing his guests to leave.

Carol noticed the weariness growing in their friend as a nurse came in carrying a tray on which rested his obligatory bowl of ice cream. "Well Chris, we should go I think." She took the bowl and set it on the tray table in front of Martin. "You... eat!" she said, giving him a stern maternal look.

"I will!" Martin snapped back, beginning to feel this more of an intervention than a visit. Martin had his suspicions that the serving size was growing daily, but he ate the creamy confection without much more than a soft grumble.

As the Parsons left the room, Louisa plopped James down on the bed, handing him one of the books that Carol had brought with her. The baby immediately scrambled over to Martin, grabbing onto the blankets and pushing his small fists against his father's stomach in an effort to boost himself up. A loud and emphatic utterance of a word his wife had admonished him to not use in the presence of their son escaped his mouth, and he quickly rolled to his side to protect his abdominal wound from any further assault. Ruth, who had been sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the bed jumped up to tend to her nephew as the baby's mother picked up and consoled a now distraught James. Martin rocked back and forth as he tried to find a position that might ease his pain. He tried to pull his knees up to lessen the tension on the surgical site, but he couldn't get his legs to respond.

Louisa came around the bed and handed James to Ruth. Martin was pale and perspiring and tears had formed in his eyes.

"Martin, should I get a nurse... or Ed?" Louisa asked.

He shook his head back and forth vigorously. The sharp pain began to abate to an intense ache as a wave of nausea hit him.

"Vomit!" Martin sputtered out, and Louisa grabbed the basin and helped him roll again to his side before his stomach contents were expelled. The resultant muscle spasms intensified the pain and Martin let out a long groan.

Louisa could see the grimace on her husband's face slowly relax and he closed his eyes, trying to mentally block out the residual pain that still throbbed through his abdomen.

His breathing began to return to normal as Louisa wiped the sweat from his face with a moist washcloth.

"Martin, I really think that I should get Ed," she said as she watched her still pale husband nervously.

"No!" he barked. He gave out one more small short groan. "I don't want them... to keep James away because of this," Martin added breathlessly.

James' wails had now dwindled to whimpers and ragged intakes of air. Louisa took the boy from Ruth and Martin watched as she consoled him.

"It's alright, James. See, your daddy's going to be okay." Louisa squatted down beside the bed so that the boy was at eye level with his father and he looked at Martin somewhat fearfully before turning to bury his face in his mother's shoulder.

Martin's brow furrowed as he watched his son turn away from him to hide his face in the safety of his mother's warmth. That flash of fear that he saw in James' eyes when he looked at him, and the brief moment of comfort between mother and child, created a small spark of understanding in Martin.


	73. Chapter 73

Ruth had excused herself to go get a cup of tea, leaving Louisa some time alone with her boys.

"Martin, are you sure you're alright?" Louisa asked as she scrutinised her husband's face for any sign of continuing distress.

"Mm, I'm fine Louisa, how's James?" He reached for his son's hand and Louisa sat down beside him, putting the boy down next to her.

"He was just startled I think." Louisa picked the child up so that he was eye to eye with her. "James Henry, you need to be more careful, you hurt your daddy!" she said in mock admonishment.

"Louisa! It wasn't James' fault!" Martin chastised her as he wrapped his arm around the boy and pulled him to his chest. "Don't blame him for this... I should have been more vigilant."

Martin touched his head to his son's. "It's alright James. You didn't do anything wrong and I'm just fine."

"Martin, I wasn't serious you know."

"I don't care! Just don't... don't even joke. You'll make him feel guilty."

Louisa could hear the anguish in her husband's voice and realised how much pain Christopher and Margaret Ellingham were still inflicting on their son. She reached over and caressed the back of his neck before kissing his cheek.

Shortly before noon an occupational therapist stopped by to get the information needed to develop a plan to ease Martin back into home life.

Louisa felt rather overwhelmed by all the requirements that would need to be met to make her husband's transition from hospital to home workable. The injury to Martin's arm meant that he would not be able to use crutches to help him get around, at least not for awhile. Therefore doorways needed to be wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair or a walker. The small lavatory off the reception room would never allow for that.

A ramp would need to be installed so that he could navigate the step up into the kitchen, and the kitchen cupboards would need to be reorganised so that Martin could access the things he needed when Louisa was unavailable to help him. He would need new clothing that would be easy to get on and off despite the bulky fixators on his limbs and they would need to find someone who could make modifications to his existing clothing. The list of considerations and tasks to be completed before Martin's homecoming seemed endless.

The occupational therapist worked with Martin to get some idea as to how much time it would take him to adjust to performing daily activities without the benefit of his right arm and hand. His years spent as a surgeon and repairing clocks had already made the transition from being a right hand dominant individual to using his left hand exclusively, much easier.

Louisa was left with a lengthy list of tips to help her provide for Martin's needs as well as contact information for people in the Port Wenn area who provided the services the Ellingham's would likely require. When the therapist left the room Louisa turned to Martin and heaved a heavy sigh. "A lot to do, hmm?"

"I'm not sure this is going to work, Louisa," Martin said, shaking his head in discouragement. "For one thing, I don't think it's possible to change the lavatory off the reception room. I checked into that after I bought the practice and was told that it would compromise the structural integrity of the building to enlarge that room. Even if it were possible, finding someone in the Port Wenn area competent enough to do the work is an unlikely scenario, and by the time they finished the job I'd be functioning normally again."

Ruth looked on with her typical flat expression. "If I may be so bold, I do have a possible solution to your problem."

Louisa turned, addressing her husband's aunt. "I'm sorry, Ruth. We didn't mean to exclude you... please, go ahead."

"If you recall, I purchased my cottage from Mrs. Honold."

"I'm sorry Ruth, I don't understand what you're saying," said Louisa, knitting her brow.

"Mrs. Honold was confined to a wheel chair. My cottage is already handicapped accessible. It would seem logical for you and Martin to move into my cottage for the time being and I could stay at the surgery."

Martin and Louisa exchanged glances. "Hmm, it does seem logical," said Martin as he mulled through the possibilities.

"Oh, Ruth! Would you really be willing to do that?" Louisa asked, taking the woman's hand in hers.

"I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, dear."

One major hurdle had been crossed, but there was still a lot to be done in a short amount of time. But Louisa felt a growing excitement mixing with the apprehension that she had been feeling about having Martin home again.

Louisa could see the increasing weariness on her husband's face. He needed to rest so she and Ruth took James to the canteen for lunch.

Martin had been dozing for awhile when there was a knock on the door and Barrett Newell came in.

"Hello, Martin. Sorry, I bet I woke you didn't I."

"Mm, I wasn't really sleeping, more just thinking than anything."

Dr. Newell pulled a chair up to the bed and took a seat. "Hmm, puzzling over the lunch menu?"

"Yeah, right"

The therapist tipped back in his chair. "I hear your son's been in for a visit, how did that go?"

"It's been really... fine."

Dr. Newell cocked his head at his patient. "Just fine?"

"No, good... really. Very good."

"Ed Christianson mentioned that there had been a mishap yesterday, care to talk about that?"

Martin winced as one of the recurrent pains he'd been having shot through his left leg. He tipped to the side, trying to shift the weight off the complaining appendage. "I've been having some side effects from the morphine. Ed increased my dosage after the surgery yesterday. I got confused and thought my mother had taken James. I was an idiot... I tried to get out of bed and ended up on the floor."

Dr. Newell leaned forward in his chair, "You must have been feeling quite afraid for your son's safety. Did you feel unsafe in your mother's care as a boy?"

"She _was_ rather harsh with her punishments."

"When she wasn't punishing you, were you fearful around her?"

"Of course I was! The woman hated me!"

The therapist relaxed back into his chair. "Fear's a very strong emotion... a crippling, paraylising emotion at times."

"Yes," Martin responded. Some seconds passed before he began to speak again.

"I frightened James earlier. I wasn't watching... he tried to boost himself up and pushed on my laparotomy wound. I yelled, not at him but because of the pain, and it scared James. I saw the fear in his eyes when he looked at me and I noticed the reassurance he seemed to get when his mother comforted him in her arms. Having that comfort from his mother was... he was able to recover from the fear over my outburst because of the comfort he received from his mother."

"Did you have anyone that you could go to for comfort, Martin?"

"My Aunt Joan, the one I'd spend summers with."

"No one though throughout the rest of the year?" Dr. Newell asked.

Martin shook his head, then sat thoughtful for a few moments. "The day my grandfather died there was no one. I wanted so badly to see my Auntie Joan. I knew that she'd comfort me. The day of the funeral, Mum and Dad had told me to stay in my room. Looking back on it, I suspect they didn't want anyone asking about my arm. Dad had told me to say I'd fallen down the stairs if anyone asked, but they were probably wanting to avoid questions... for people to know what I'd done... I don't know. I've never liked dishonesty. I've never been a good liar and my parents knew that." Martin said shrugging his shoulders.

"Anyway, I was in my room when people came back to the house after the service. I heard Auntie Joan's voice downstairs. I almost ran down when I heard her... I had my hand on the doorknob. I wanted so much to feel her arms around me... her warmth. But, I was too afraid of what Mum and Dad would do. When I heard people leaving later that afternoon, I watched out my window as she walked to the car with Aunt Ruth. I wanted to pound on the window... to get her attention, but I just put my hand against the glass. I was hoping that I could feel her warmth, but the glass was cold. I've been thinking about that lately, wondering if things would have been different if I'd disobeyed my parents and gone to Auntie Joan."

Dr. Newell watched Martin closely. He didn't want to push him beyond what he could handle emotionally, and he was also very concerned about the effect that the emotional stress of coming to terms with the past could have on his patient's physical recovery.

"That's something we'll never know, isn't it." The therapist sat quietly for awhile before continuing. "Here we are, two adults looking back on the situation with the benefit of hindsight and _we_ don't know which way things would have gone had you run to your aunt. It would be completely unreasonable to expect that a seven year old in the midst of that nightmare would be able to make that decision."

Dr. Newell got up and poured two glasses of water, handing one to his patient before returning to his chair.

"Martin, children need to feel secure for normal emotional development to occur. It might be helpful for you to bone up a bit on what you learned in your paediatrics courses in medical school... focus on emotional development, particularly during early childhood. It might help you to understand why you reacted the way you did when you were alone in that room when your grandfather died, and how the incident affected you in the days and months... years following. I'd be happy to bring some reading material by if you're interested."

"Yes, I think that would be good, thank you."

"You're most welcome, Martin. Well, I should let you get some rest. You have my number if you should need me. Feel free to call any time."

Ruth, James and Louisa returned from lunch shortly after the therapist left. James was overdue for a nap and was beginning to get irritable, so Louisa got him settled in next to his father and handed Martin one of the children's books that Carol had brought with her.

"Oh Louisa! This is ridiculous, I can't read this to him!" Martin said, wrinkling up his nose and pushing the book back towards his wife.

"Well, it's certainly an improvement over yesterday's selection, and we do need to start introducing the concept to him, Martin," Louisa said as she slapped the book back down on the bed next to her husband. "Now... read."

Martin scowled at his wife and glanced down at his son.

James flashed him a toothy grin and let out a squeal of excitement, watching in anticipation as his father breathed out a resigned sigh and began to read, "An elephant makes a big poop, a mouse makes a tiny poop..."


	74. Chapter 74

Neither James nor his father made it through the entire children's story and both Ellingham men were now sleeping soundly next to Louisa as she tried to focus her attention on her book. Ruth had gone to "stretch her legs a bit".

Her eyes getting bleary, Louisa laid her book down on her lap and glanced over at her husband. Martin had woken up and was now staring silently at the ceiling.

"You look very serious. Anything you want to talk about?" Louisa asked him.

Martin filled his chest with air before releasing it slowly. "Dr. Newell was by while you were at lunch."

"Oh?" Louisa sat up a little straighter and tucked her legs under her. "If you're comfortable talking about it, I'd like to hear what you discussed."

"I told him about what happened with James earlier. Louisa, I saw the fear in his face when he looked at me, but then I saw that fear melt away when you held him close... comforted him."

"That's what mother's do best I guess." Louisa said smiling, then instantly regretting her choice of words.

Martin felt his chest tighten and he laid his head back on his pillow again and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to get himself to relax.

"Martin, I'm so sorry. I didn't think before I spoke," Louisa said as she reached to caress his arm.

"It's okay, I've had things like this happen before. It just catches me off guard."

"What do you mean by 'things like this'?" Louisa asked as she cocked her head at him.

"Some things seem very natural to other people... like they're stating the obvious. Roger Fenn said something once, a couple of years ago. It was the day my mother told me that I'd ruined her life. He and Maureen had just found out they were expecting twins. He was naturally excited about it and said something like, 'having children is the best thing, ask any parent'... something to that effect anyway. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. My mother was certainly not in that camp." Martin shook his head, trying to refocus on the discussion with his therapist.

"Anyway, Dr. Newell asked if I had anyone that I could go to for comfort. That would of course have been Auntie Joan. She was actually at the house the day of Grandfather's funeral but I had to stay in my room so I didn't see her."

"Oh Martin! You mean you knew she was in the house, just outside your door but you couldn't go to her?"

"Mm. I watched her from my window as she walked down the sidewalk and drove away. The next time I saw her was the following summer. By then I think I'd forgotten the entire incident."

Louisa got up on her knees and leaned across their son to embrace and kiss her husband. "Life _does_ owe you so very much you know."

Martin blew a hiss of air out of his nose and shook his head. "No, I _don't_ know. Louisa, the more I think about that day, the more confused I get.

I think I can understand my actions when I look at the incident through my _own_ eyes... remember how afraid I was of my parents. But then I think about how I knew then that it wasn't right for me to not get help. I knew that I should do something.

And if look at my actions through my _parent's_ eyes, especially Dad's, what I did seems unforgivable.

And then I look at it through my _grandfather's_ eyes and... " Martin took in a ragged breath and wiped his palm over his face. "Louisa, I was dying... I know how that feels. To feel the blood draining from your body. But I had people working desperately to help me. I've tried to imagine what... what it must have been like for my grandfather, knowing he was dying. Knowing his grandson was sitting right beside him but he wouldn't help him."

Louisa took her husband's hand in hers and held it to her cheek. "Maybe you need to figure out who's eyes you should be looking through... hmm?"

Martin glanced at his wife before turning his head back to the ceiling to think.

Ruth came back to the room a short time later. "Do you feel up to a visitor, Martin?" she asked as she stood in the doorway.

Martin groaned, "Oh, not Penhale!"

"No, it's Al. We have some business to take care of and he came by to pick me up. So... am I going to get an answer or shall I make the decision for you?"

Martin scowled and fidgeted in the bed, trying to get himself sitting more upright. "I guess it's fine," he said, less than enthusiastic.

Ruth waved her hand, signaling the all clear to Al.

Louisa wasn't sure if her husband would pick up on it, but she could see apprehension in the young Large's eyes as he approached her husband. "Come on in Al! It's so nice to see you."

"Hello Louisa... Doc." Al said, giving them a nod of his head and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He stood awkwardly, trying not to let his eyes fall on the metallic hardware protruding from the doctor's arm, or the bulky brace supporting it.

"I guess I won't ask you how you're doin' Doc. That probably gets annoyin', dunnit?"

"Mm, yes," Martin said, ducking his head uncomfortably.

"So... I see you got yer arm messed up. Ruth says you messed up yer legs too."

After an awkward pause, Louisa couldn't take the strained conversation any longer and stepped in to help her husband out with the impromptu exercise in Social Skills 101.

"Yes Al, Martin broke both legs. I'll leave it up to him as to whether or not he wants to play show and tell," Louisa said, squeezing her husband's shoulder lightly.

"Louisa... I don't think Al cares to see it," Martin said flatly, pulling the blankets up a bit higher. He breathed a gentle sigh of relief when his aunt's assistant seemed to be in agreement.

"Got some cuts on yer face that are still healin' too I see."

Martin looked down at his lap self-consciously. "Mm."

"So Al, Ruth tells us you have business in Truro. It sounds like things are moving quickly with the changes you're making to the farm!" Louisa said, trying to divert the conversation away from her increasingly disgruntled husband.

"Yeah, we've got lots of work to do yet, though. You and the doc should come out and see what we've done so far... when yer better, Doc."

"We'd love to do that Al, wouldn't we Martin?" Louisa nodded her head vigorously at him and raised her eyebrows slightly, a gesture he knew meant that his verbal agreement was expected.

"Mm, yes. Al, do you think you might be able to spare some time to help Ruth and Louisa get some things moved around before I come home?"

"Sure Doc, whatever ya need. I could get Dad to help out too if you like."

"No, no. That's fine Al. I don't think that'll be necessary," Martin replied quickly. He could picture Bert, laid out on their couch with his back in spasms, unable to leave their house to return to his own home.

James woke and was in need of a nappy change so Ruth and Al said their goodbyes before the unpleasantries began. Louisa was just finishing with the baby's clean up when Tim Spalding knocked on the door.

She could see the uneasiness on her husband's face and excused herself to take James to get a snack. She was very curious about what was done with Martin during his therapy sessions, but she had agreed to respect his privacy in this regard.

The therapist began with the usual range of motion exercises that had been done at previous sessions, slowly working to loosen the muscles that continually contracted, the body's way of trying to protect the fractured bones.

"I spoke with Mr. Christianson yesterday about working this week to get you ready to try out those legs. I'm going to work these muscles a little harder today and add in some resistance exercises. We'll also do some strengthening exercises with your arm."

"Should I be expecting it to be more painful today?" asked Martin, somewhat nervously.

"I'm afraid so Dr. Ellingham. Tell me though when you feel like you can't tolerate any more."

Tim pushed his patient's limbs much farther than he ever had before and Martin found himself unable to stifle the groans elicited by the therapist's work.

"Could we take a little break?" Martin asked breathlessly.

"Certainly, let me get you a glass of water."

"So, what's your son's name?" the therapist asked.

Martin had a generally positive opinion of his physiotherapist, but he did find the young man's habit of conducting small talk while his patient was in pain, to be quite annoying.

"James," Martin snapped.

"Is he walking yet?" Tim asked, trying to keep up polite conversation.

"Are we going to get back to work here or are you going to continue with this officious line of questioning!?"

The therapist had been warned of his patient's tendency towards irritability, but this was the first that he had seen it rear it's ugly head. Tim dismissed Martin's less than tactful remark and returned to the work at hand.

"Alright Dr. Ellingham, we're going to do something a little different. You can't do any weight bearing yet but we need to ease you in that direction. I'm going to push on your foot and I want you to try to resist me. Don't try to push back, just try to keep your foot where it's at now. Let me be in control."

The therapist held his patient's left heel in one hand and pushed against the bottom of his foot with the other. The unaccustomed pressure caused intense pain in the bones of Martin's leg and he let a long, loud groan slip from his mouth. The pain continued as Tim worked back and forth, but it was less intense each time the therapist applied pressure.

The same procedure was repeated with the opposite leg, and although the fractures in Martin's right leg were not as severe as in the left, there were three bones damaged instead of two, one of which was the femur, the large bone in the upper leg. Femoral fractures are inherently painful. The reaction of the patient to the applied pressure reverberated down the corridor.

Louisa heard her husband as she was nearing the nurses station and she hurried towards his room.

"Mrs. Ellingham! Wait, he's with the physiotherapist!" a nurse called to Louisa.

Louisa stopped, despite her desire to assure herself that Martin was alright. She waited outside the door, holding back tears as she listened to his groans.

It soon grew quiet and she relaxed a bit, walking up and down the hallway, stopping now and then to show James the pictures hanging on the walls. She saw the young therapist emerge from her husband's room, walking in her direction.

"We just finished up Mrs. Ellingham. It was an intense session today so your husband's going to be pretty uncomfortable. I'll stop at the nurse's station and ask them to get some ice on him, maybe some extra morphine. But, hopefully we can get him upright by the end of the week."

"Thank you. Martin was adamant that he didn't want me here for his physiotherapy. I think he probably knew best in this case, didn't he."

"It would be difficult for you to watch, I'm sure. He's doing very well with it though and I'll take good care of him."

"I appreciate that... very much," Louisa said, smiling weakly.

Martin was trying to wipe himself down with a wet washcloth when Louisa returned to the room. A nurse came in and took over, wiping off the perspiration and helping him into dry clothes before packing his limbs in ice.

"You look absolutely knackered Martin," Louisa said once the nurse had left the room. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just very tired."

"Maybe James and I should head home... let you sleep, hmm?"

Martin hated to see his two loves go but he didn't want them on the road after dark, and he _was_ absolutely knackered.


	75. Chapter 75

Louisa woke Monday morning feeling positive about the future. Martin's health was improving more rapidly now and soon he would be home again. There was a lot to get organised, but having the use of Ruth's cottage eliminated much of the work that would need to be done. She brought her list of tasks that she needed to complete to work with her, hoping to have some time here and there to make phone calls.

But, the best laid plans often go awry. Halfway through the morning, the year two's teacher became ill and needed to leave. That meant that Louisa had to step in and teach that class. It would have been easier if it had been a class of older children, she could busy them with whatever was in the lesson plan schedule for the day. Teaching the little ones required her to be a bit more creative.

"Alright year twos!" Louisa said clapping her hands together loudly. " Mrs. Jensen can't be here to teach you because, as you know, she's not feeling well. But, she has your lessons all ready for you so we'll work on them together. Please get your science books out." There was a flurry of activity as books and papers were shuffled about in desks. Louisa waited for the noise to die down before continuing on.

"Please turn in your books to chapter three. Garrett, would you please take the first paragraph?"

The children took turns reading about the musculoskeletal system before their teacher went on to discuss the importance of proper nutrition in maintaining healthy muscles and bones.

"How many of you walked to school today?" Louisa asked the children. Three fourths of the hands shot up and waved about in the air.

"And what part of our bodies do we use to walk up and down all the big hills in our village?"

More hands were raised and Louisa pointed to a petite blonde girl in the first row. "Anna?"

"Our feet!"

"Yes, we use our feet, and our feet are attached to our... ?"

There was a collective shout out, "Legs!"

"Yes, and we have bones and muscles in our legs and the rest of our bodies that help us to do many, many things. Some bones and muscles help us to chew our food, some help us to breathe, and some help us to write in our exercise books or color beautiful pictures.

But we have to take care of our bones and muscles or they don't stay strong. We need nutritious foods like milk and meat that have calcium and protein, and we also need the vitamins from other foods that help our bodies use the calcium and protein."

Louisa saw a hand pop up and called on the girl to whom it belonged. "Ella?"

"Is that what happened to Evan? He dint eat the right stuff and his bones got weak?" the child asked, pointing to a shy looking boy in the back of the room.

"Well, there are many reasons that bones break and muscles get weak. Evan, can you tell us how you broke your arm?" Louisa watched as the boy looked down at his desk and began to kick his foot nervously back and forth.

"I fell," Evan finally muttered.

Louisa hesitated as she recalled Martin's conversation with her about a boy who had been abused by his father. With all that had happened since that dinner out together, she hadn't made the connection. "Well, that's certainly one way for it to happen, isn't it class!"

A chorus of agreement echoed through the classroom.

"My mum said Dr. Ellingham broke his bones because a lorry hit him," said Sally Bowden.

Louisa paused and nodded her head. "Yes, he did but he's getting better every day and soon he'll be back at the surgery to take care of you lot when you get sick or hurt. Now, get out your crayons and I'll give you all a picture of our bones and muscles to color. When you finish that, you can come up and get a blank sheet of paper from Mrs. Jensen's desk and draw a picture of something that you use your bones and muscles to do. When you're done, bring them up and put them on the desk... and work quietly, please."

Louisa sat down behind the teacher's desk and busied herself with paperwork while waiting for the children to complete their task. Pippa Woodley stopped in a short time later, offering to relieve Louisa of her substitute duties.

Back in her office, she rang up the number she'd been given for the Cornwall Home Health Aide Services and scheduled interviews with several different potential candidates. She would need to talk with Martin about what questions he would want her to ask the aides. She was without a doubt, apprehensive about being the one responsible for making this decision.

Louisa was packing her satchel before heading home for the day when there was a knock on her door and Pippa Woodley came through.

"Pippa, come in! How did it go with year twos?"

"Fine, no problems. I just wanted to drop this off. I found it in with the pages the kids turned in today... thought you'd want to pass it along to Dr. Ellingham," she said, laying the item on Louisa's desk. "See you tomorrow!"

"Thank you Pippa. Have a good night!"

Louisa opened the crudely folded piece of paper and couldn't help but smile. Yes, she did want to pass it on to Dr. Ellingham.

Martin had gotten very little rest the night before. The morphine had blunted the pain left by yesterday's physiotherapy session, but it had also made him edgy, and had muddled his thinking. Mr. Christianson had insisted on a nurse being present in his room at all times, which Martin found to be very intrusive.

Sleep had proved elusive, and when he did drift off, his slumber was disrupted frequently by disturbing dreams and nightmares. Martin woke several times, confused by his surroundings, and he took out his frustrations on whichever unfortunate attendant happened to be in the room. By morning, both patient and caregivers were relieved to see the light of day ease it's way in through the window.

Ed Christianson stopped in shortly after breakfast to remove Martin's sutures, replacing them with butterfly strips. "Things are looking good, Martin. The scary part's over I think, but now the hard part begins,eh?"

"Mm, yes. Therapy _was_ difficult yesterday."

"Well, just don't push yourself too hard. I told Tim Spalding to keep an eye on you but he's not a mind reader. Don't try to hide the pain."

Ed pulled up a chair and took a seat. "How's everything else going... keeping your spirits up?"

Martin shook his head. "I do fine most of the time, but... there are moments when it does get discouraging."

"This is one of those moments?" asked Ed, folding his hands behind his head.

"Mm. It helps when my family's here, but they won't be back until Friday... seems like a long way off," Martin said dejectedly.

"Hang in there Martin, with any luck we'll have you back home soon."

Chris dropped by Martin's room over his lunch break, bringing with him a cup of espresso from a cafe not far from the hospital.

"I thought you might like a little company. How was it to have James and Louisa here for the weekend?" Chris asked as he pulled a chair over and sat down.

"It was good. I think James had grown since I'd last seen him. Having Louisa here at night was really good."

"Yeah, I would imagine," Chris said giving Martin a roguish grin.

The two men sat silently for some seconds before Chris got up and began to fish around in the box of amusements he had brought for Martin. He pulled out a board and a box filled with chess pieces.

"Care for a game?"

Martin threw his hand in the air in self abnegation. "Why not."

They moved their pieces around the board without saying a word to one another. Martin finally broke the silence.

"That book you gave me, Chris... I didn't get a chance to thank you."

Chris broke his concentration on the game to respond, "You're welcome, Mart. I'm sorry though if it upset you for some reason... that wasn't my intent."

Martin shifted his weight to his other hip. "No, no. I realise that. I should explain... I um... it triggered a memory. You already know about some of it. Do remember my telling you about what my father said... and that I thought it might be connected to when I broke my arm?"

Chris set the game aside mentally for the moment to focus on his friend. "Yeah... so was there a connection?"

Martin breathed out a heavy sigh, "The book you gave me was the same book my grandfather gave me the day he died. He suffered a ruptured pulmonary aneurysm whilst I was alone in my father's study with him. He'd just given me a pocket watch to fix... and the book," Martin said nodding his head towards the table where the book was laying.

"I feel responsible Chris... he kept pleading with me to get help but my parent's were having a row in the other room and I was afraid to open the door. So, I just watched him die."

Chris grimaced, "The blood... *massive hemoptysis?"

"Yeah," Martin said, rubbing his eyes in an effort to alleviate the ache that was intensifying behind them.

Chris let out a low whistle. "You know there was nothing that could've been done Martin. He would have been dead before you could get him to hospital."

Martin shook his head. "Not necessarily. I sat next to him for a long time. I suspect it started as a slow leak. But I think it's the fact that I did nothing to help the man that I can't seem to deal with. I see his face all the time Chris... the blood pulsating from his mouth... the fixed stare! I blink my eyes and it's there. I try to go to sleep and it's there.

I know now what it feels like to be dying. I've tried to imagine what it would have been like if the paramedics that took care of me had just sat and watched me die. .. ignored me as I begged them for help.

And I think about what my grandfather must have thought of me when I wouldn't help him. I know he was proud of me before that day but I don't think he could have been proud of me when he died."

Chris threw his head back in frustration. "You were a little kid Martin, kids don't think like adults you know! You were in a no win situation, you had no power over your hideous parents! Sorry mate, but you did get stuck with some truly appalling parents!"

"Yes."

Martin returned his attention to the game, sliding his bishop diagonally across the board to capture his opponent's knight.

"I do appreciate the book, Chris. The copy my grandfather had given me, disappeared. I suspect my father binned it. I never saw it after that day... so I do appreciate it...it means a lot."

Chris gave his friend a small smile before moving his knight forward. "You're welcome, Mart. I'm glad you like it."

"Mm," said Martin ducking his head self consciously before moving his rook to the side. "Checkmate."

* * *

><p>* Profuse bleeding from the mouth that originates from the lungs or bronchial tubes.<p> 


	76. Chapter 76

A young woman stopped in Martin's room that afternoon, introducing herself as Kate Gunther. She would be in charge of Martin's occupational therapy as well as his transition from hospital to home. She would also help him to make the adaptations that would be necessary when he began to see patients again.

"I understand Mr. Christianson is hoping to have you on your feet by the end of the week. But as a doctor, I'm sure you realise that you'll be using a wheelchair to get around most of the time...at least for awhile. It'll be helpful if you can get up using a walker though, just to help you get from the bed to the wheelchair. How far will your bed be from the lavatory?" Kate asked as she manipulated Martin's wrist.

There was an en suite bathroom at Ruth's but Martin couldn't remember the exact configuration of the room. "I would guess maybe ten feet or less... I'm not sure. We'll be using my aunt's cottage until I'm more ambulatory. The previous owner was confined to a wheelchair so the necessary adaptations have already been made." said Martin, wincing as the therapist rotated his hand slightly.

"Good!" Kate said nodding her head. "I would imagine you'd prefer to get to and from the loo on your own?"

Martin scowled at the therapist. "Of course I would, that's an asinine question. And I don't need you to keep me entertained with congenial banter either." he curmudgeoned.

Her patient's bluntness startled Kate somewhat, but she had been briefed beforehand about Martin's forthright nature and she took it in stride.

"Alright then, let's see what we can do to get a bit more strength and flexibility back in your arm and hand. Can you get this brace on and off yourself?

"I don't know, I haven't tried," Martin grumbled.

"Well let's give a go now, shall we? Before you start, make sure that you have your elbow resting on the table. Your loose shoulder might not support your arm once the brace is removed," she said stepping back to watch as her patient worked to remove the orthosis.

The movement necessary to reach the clips and Velcro closures pulled on the muscles and ribs that had been severed during the thoracotomy. Martin set his jaw and furrowed his brow, mentally blocking out the pain as he determinedly worked at the fastners until he was able to free himself of the brace.

"Excellent, Dr. Ellingham! Now, lay your arm on the table but let your hand hang down at the wrist. Then pull your knuckles up towards your forearm and make a fist... good! Repeat that ten times."

Once Martin had completed that exercise the therapist had him rotate his hand so that his palm was up. She then had him rotate it in the opposite direction until the backside of his hand was on top.

"Bloody hell!" Martin sputtered as intense pain shot through his arm.

"I know it hurts doctor, but try to repeat that movement ten times."

Martin looked at the woman dubiously before taking in a deep breath and continuing on.

"Would you like a glass of water, Dr. Ellingham?" Kate asked as Martin wiped the tears from his eyes and sweat from his brow.

"Yes, please," he said, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand.

"I spoke with Tim Spalding and he said that he'd worked your legs pretty hard yesterday, so we'll give you a break today and Tim can work with you again tomorrow... torture those legs some more," she said trying unsuccessfully to coax a smile from her patient.

Kate went through several more less painful exercises with Martin, having him touch each of his fingers to his thumb, and resting his arm on the table whilst moving each digit up and down.

She then took out a box filled with items, varied in size and shape, and dumped them out onto the table. Martin's task was to pick them up, one by one, and put them back in the box. He found it maddeningly difficulty to coordinate his fine motor movements, and he often dropped the objects before they made it to their final destination. Nerves had been damaged in the accident and his hand and arm hand felt numb.

The therapist had him close his eyes and try to feel around for the pieces, then pick them up and drop them in the box.

"I can't do this," he said, anxiety beginning to set in.

"Just keep trying, Dr. Ellingham. This will take time and practice," Kate said, trying to sound encouraging.

Martin could hear the pieces rattling around on the table as he bumped them with his fingers but he felt as if he was grasping at the air as he inadvertently knocked the items off onto the bed .

All the pain and stresses of the last weeks that Martin had managed to keep buried beneath the surface were being exhumed. He was frustrated by his inability to perform this simple task. The exercise created an acute awareness of the severity of the injury to his arm and it terrified him. It all resulted in an explosion of emotions.

Martin swept the objects off the table with his good arm, flinging them forcefully across the room. He then gave the tray table a mighty shove and sent it toppling to the floor.

"Get out! Get out and leave me alone, and take your infantile game with you!" he screamed at his therapist before collapsing back on the bed, feeling an immediate sense of shame for his behaviour.

Kate could see both the fear and the rage in her patient's eyes, and knew that it was best to leave him be for the moment. "I'll have someone come in a little later to tidy up and help you with your brace," she said before slipping quietly from the room.

Martin waited until the door closed before fully releasing his emotions in ragged sobs.

Louisa was regretting not having picked up nappies as she and James drove by Wadebridge the night before, but she was anxious to get home and get the baby bathed and off to bed. This however, meant that she would need to stop at Mrs. Tishell's for her supplies, and she knew the nebby woman would be full of questions.

As she entered the chemist's, the cowbell on the door announced her arrival to the proprietor.

The woman's sing-songy voice could be heard in the back room. "I'll be with you in a moment!"

Louisa gathered together several other items that she was in need of while she waited. Mrs Tishell was brought up short when she walked behind the counter to see Dr. Ellingham's wife standing on the other side.

"Louisa, what a pleasant surprise!" the woman gushed.

"Hello, Mrs. Tishell, I'd like some nappies, please... and I have a few other items here," she said in a very business like tone as she laid her purchases on the counter.

"Of course, I'll just go and get those for you," she said, heading for the stairs. She took a few steps before turning back around to address her customer again. "And how is... Dr. Ellingham?"

"He's doing better, thank you."

The chemist wandered back, and leaning over, rested her arm on the counter. "I was just _devastated_ to hear of his accident, absolutely _devastated_," she said shaking her head. "There of course have been stories traveling about the village. Not that _I_ would spread them any further, mind you!"

Louisa's ponytail flicked back and forth several times. "What... stories?" Louisa asked as her hackles began to rise.

"Well... there have been some suggesting that your husband had been..." Mrs. Tishell leaned across the counter and whispered in Louisa's ear. "...on the lash... so to speak," she said, annuciating every syllable.

The pony tail whipped around again as Louisa quickly turned her head away, pursing her lips. "If you could just get my nappies, Mrs Tishell!"

"Oh, of course!" She thumped up the stairs as the cowbell jangled on the door and another customer entered the building.

The chemist returned with the requested nappies and Louisa paid her bill.

"I told the individual spreading the rumors about your husband that they had it all wrong," Mrs. Tishell said, intending to sound reassuring. "I told them, not our good doctor... not in a _million_ years!"

"Yer sprog sure do look like 'is daddy, Miss!" said the fisherman waiting behind Louisa.

"Yes, he _is_ a handsome child, isn't he!" fawned the chemist.

Louisa felt heat rising in her cheeks and hurried out, slamming the door behind her.

By the time she headed up Roscarrock Hill she could feel the sting of tears building in her eyes. She approached Large's Restaurant and she heard Bert's jovial voice call out.

"Hello, Louiser!" he said as he waved at her to come down.

She groaned internally but she had put the man off once already so she thought it would be best to accommodate him.

"Have you had your high tea yet?" Bert asked.

Louisa smiled graciously at the man. "No Bert, James and I were just heading home for dinner. We had to make a stop at the chemists first... nappies," she said smiling and holding up her shopping bag as exhibit A.

"I tell you what, dinner is on the house tonight. That way you won't have to worry about cooking," Bert offered.

"That sounds lovely, Bert... and it's so kind of you!"

"Oh, it's my pleasure. You just take a seat right here and I'll bring you a menu. May I offer you a starter, perhaps?" Bert asked, spraying a bit of spittle in Louisa's direction.

"Um, no Bert. I think I'll eat light tonight."

Bert waddled off and Louisa settled James into a highchair. She pulled out a piece of Melba toast for the boy to gnaw on while they waited for their food.

Bert returned with the menu and after handing it to his patron, plopped himself down on the chair across from her.

"So, how's the doc doin', any better?" Bert asked.

"Yes, every day is a bit better now. The first couple of weeks were very difficult... for both of us. Martin had a lot of set backs, but hopefully it's full speed ahead now," Louisa said, forcing a smile.

Bert leaned forward and placed a plump hand on his friend's arm. "And how about you, girl? Are you faring alright, you look a bit peaked, and a little stressed perhaps?"

"Oh, Bert. It's just... this village... the gossip about Martin. I just found out from Mrs. Tishell that people are saying that Martin had been drinking when he had his accident! Martin doesn't touch alcohol!"

Bert tipped his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm not sayin' I believe the gossip goin' 'round, but I do remember a little incident a few years back. Caused quite a stir if I recall."

Louisa could feel her chest tighten and her breaths quickening. "That was my fault, Bert! Martin wasn't used to alcohol and I kept filling his glass with wine! I _wanted_ to get him drunk so that maybe he... would..." Louisa realised she had already shared more information with the man than she had intended.

She gathered her composure before adding, "Martin had not consumed _any_ alcohol what...so...ever when that lorry hit him. And I'd appreciate it if you would get that bit of information started through the village grapevine," Louisa huffed.

"Certainly... I didn't mean to upset you, girl. Well, you just give a whistle if me and Jenny can be of any assistance... anything at all."

"That's very sweet Bert, thank you." Louisa handed the menu back to him and placed her order.

Louisa hurried through her meal and by the time she had finished eating, James was smashing his peas with his fist and finger painting with his applesauce. Both sure signs that he'd had his fill as well.

She gathered their belongings together, thanked Bert and hurried on up the hill to the surgery.

It was nice to not have to cook dinner, but she was afraid the delay at the Large's might mean it would be getting too late to call Martin. Fortunately, James was tired and nodded off quickly.

Louisa was coming down the stairs when her mobile rang. A smile came to her face when she saw her husband's name on the screen.

"Hello, Martin!" Louisa said breathlessly.

"Hello, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I just put James down for the night. How are you?" Louisa asked as she sat down on the stairs.

"Mm, it was a busy day so I'm tired."

"A busy day? They don't have you seeing patients over there, do they?"

"Hmm?"

"Just a little joke, Martin. Not a very good one I'm afraid," Louisa said as she brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

"Ah, I see."

"So what did they do with you today?"

"Ed removed most of my sutures this morning. Those in my left leg need to stay in for another week. Um, Chris stopped by and talked me into a game of chess."

Louisa smiled as she tried to picture the pair sitting together, contemplating their next moves. "So... who won?"

"Does it matter?" Martin asked. He was never comfortable talking about his accomplishments, no matter how large or small.

"It does to me, I don't know if I could sleep tonight without hearing the final score," Louisa said in jest.

Martin of course missed the facetious tone in her statement. "You don't keep score in chess, Louisa. It's not that kind of a game. You either win or you lose. The object is to..."

Louisa interjected, "Yes, Martin. I know."

"Ah, you were joking again."

"Mm hmm. So what else did you do today?"

Louisa heard a long sigh at the other end of the line before her husband began to talk. "An occupational therapist came in and discussed some considerations in regard to the move back home... or, to Ruth's. Mostly ambulation issues."

Louisa waited, wanting to give Martin time to collect his thoughts. She knew that something was bothering him. "Martin, what is it? I can tell that somethings wrong... did something happen?"

Martin let out a soft groan. "I'm sorry, Louisa. I lost my temper with the occupational therapist."

"What do you mean, you lost your temper?" she asked, apprehensively.

"I embarrassed myself... I threw some things."

"Did he do something to upset you?"

"She... it's a she. No, she was quite professional. I... Louisa, she dumped all this stuff out on my tray table... blocks, paper clips, pencils... that kind of thing. I was supposed to pick them up with my right hand and put them back in the box. It was so hard to get my fingers to function normally. Then she told me to close my eyes and do it and... I couldn't do it. I couldn't even feel anything. I could feel the table, but not all those little pieces!

"It was so... humiliating. I kept knocking things off onto the bed but I never was able to pick anything up."

Louisa leaned forward, her chin in her hand. "I'm sure that was unsettling."

"More than unsettling! I've been hoping to at least have the option of performing surgery again! Now I'm finding myself wondering if I'll be able to practice medicine again! I can't even be a G.P. if I only have one usable hand. How would I suture cuts, reduce a dislocated shoulder, start an IV?" Martin spat out.

"Martin, you're just getting started with the therapy. You need to give it time, give your body time. I can certainly understand why you're upset, this must be frightening for you... it is for me too, you know... this not knowing the final outcome. But please understand this, Martin... I am only frightened for _you_, for how this will affect _you_... mentally and physically. I love you more than anything in this world Martin, and all I care about is whether or not you can be happy and I'm afraid this accident will be the straw that breaks the camels back!"

"I'm sorry, Louisa. I've made you more worried... I didn't mean to do that." Martin was silent for a few seconds before adding, "I'll be fine... I'm fine."

Martin tried to find a more comfortable position before continuing to talk. "I miss you when you're not here. I miss your warmth. I miss your softness, your smell, the way you look at me."

Louisa was speechless. Her husband had never expressed his desire for her so openly before and she didn't know if she should be swooning at his words or fearing for his mental state.

"I'll be fine, Louisa. If we're together, I'll be fine no matter what happens. When you're here I don't worry about this, but when you go back home I start thinking that..."

Louisa could hear a heavy sigh. "Martin, I promise you that I will_ not_ leave you. If it would help, I could just stay on the phone with you all day," Louisa said, hoping to lighten her husband's mood.

"Mm, that wouldn't be very sensible. You wouldn't get any work done and you could just as well be here."

A small smile came to Louisa's face. "I know, Martin. Seriously though, would you like me to come and stay with you until you can come home?"

What Martin wanted and what he knew to be practical were two entirely different things. And he knew Louisa needed time to get things organised for his return, both at home and at the school.

"No, I think you should stay there. I'm doing better now. It helps to hear your voice."

"Okay, but call me anytime you want to talk. I mean that, Martin. _Anytime_."

"Mm, you may regret those words... I haven't been sleeping well lately," Martin said as he began to feel his tensions ease.

"I love you, Martin."

"I love you, too."


	77. Chapter 77

Dr. Newell dropped by Martin's room Tuesday morning with a stack of reading material about early childhood emotional development. Martin was a very cerebral individual and Dr. Newell knew that scientifically controlled studies would do more to sway his thinking about his involvement in his grandfather's death than the well-intentioned sentiments of friends and family.

"I've bookmarked a number of pages that I thought would be of particular interest to you, Martin." The therapist picked up a journal and handed it to his patient. "I want to draw your attention to an article in here on a study done forty years ago by Lawrence Kohlberg, a Harvard psychologist. He found that moral reasoning falls into six identifiable stages of sophistication.

In the first, or least sophisticated stage people will conclude that what's right and good is that which enables them to be rewarded or avoid punishment. That, of course, is the stage you would have been in at the time of your grandfather's death. As a seven year old, you would have based decisions on whether the most influential people in your life would reward you or punish you for a particular behaviour.

The sixth, or most sophisticated stage is marked by the ability to embrace the principles of universal justice and human rights.

It turns out there was a flaw in Kohlberg's study... a pretty major flaw which has made his work somewhat controversial. Even though he maintained a good cross cultural representation, one hundred percent of his subjects were male. There's still a lot to be gleaned from the man's work though."

Martin scowled, "I'm not sure that this Kohlberg fellow had it right. I knew that my grandfather was dying... that if I didn't get help he wouldn't survive," he said, flicking his thumb across the edge of the journal.

The therapist gave Martin an understanding nod. "Yes, so you had to make a moral decision... and remember how a seven year old makes moral choices.

Your parents had told you not to interrupt their rows or you'd be punished. I'm curious, Martin... how were you punished the times that you _did_ interrupt your parents arguments?"

Martin leaned back in the bed and closed his eyes as he visualised the incident. Dr. Newell watched as his patient winced and turn his head away. "Can you remember, Martin? What would your punishment have been?"

"It only happened once... Mum and Dad were in their bedroom and a man came to the door wanting to talk to my father. When I went upstairs to get him, they were in the middle of a disagreement. I tried to tell him about the man waiting for him downstairs but he didn't notice me. I tugged on his sleeve to get his attention and he backhanded me... caught me in the mouth with his knuckles."

"Did it injure you badly?"

Martin squirmed uncomfortably before answering. "It knocked out a couple of teeth and split my lip."

"Martin, children equate the severity of their punishments with the egregiousness of their alleged misdeed. I don't have to tell you that, as a child, you probably felt that interrupting your parents was a very serious offense, considering your father's reaction.

Your parent's expectations would have outweighed your grandfather's pleas for help, Martin. Also, opening the door of that study and interrupting your parents would have had an immediate and _certain_ consequence. Whereas, sitting by your grandfather's side would result in a delayed and _less_ certain consequence. Now, think of your choices in moral terms. Which would have seemed more morally just to a seven year old?

I think that you've been seeing the incident through your seven year old eyes, but you've been judging that seven year old boy through your adult eyes... and your adult definition of morality."

Martin looked off thoughtfully, then began to thumb through the journal as the doctor pulled up a chair next to his bed. "So how are you doing overall? Is Ed Christianson happy with your progress?"

"Yes, I think so. The first couple of weeks were rough, but the last three or four days there's been steady improvement," Martin said as he tossed the journal onto the stack of books and periodicals the doctor had set next to the bed. "Ed hopes to get me up on my feet by late this week. The sooner I can get ambulatory, the sooner I can go home."

Dr. Newell leaned forward in his chair. "And mentally, how are you doing... with the depression and sleep issues?" he asked as he tapped his fingers together.

"It's a little hard to tell about the depression," Martin said as he furrowed his brow. "I do have times when I feel discouraged... depressed maybe, but I would think that's normal after trauma like this. As far as sleep... I was doing fine until they cut back on the opioids. The last week's been difficult. I see my grandfather's face when I close my eyes. Nights get long... I'm so tired that I can't keep my eyes open, but as soon as they close it's the same image."

"Let me talk with Ed and see if we can get you something to help with that. You're on a pretty complicated cocktail already so we'll need to make sure we don't have any problems with drug interactions. How's the confusion and anxiety been since they cut back on the morphine?"

"Better, but it's still hard to think at times. It takes me longer to process a question."

"A little slow on the uptake?" Dr. Newell asked, grinning at his patient.

"That's the general idea," Martin said, scowling back. "I get confused when I wake up in the night. It takes me awhile to figure out where I am... why I'm here and not at home."

"You're going to be on the morphine for quite some time so you might want to talk with the occupational therapist about some ways of dealing with the sluggish thinking." Dr. Newell got to his feet and stretched his arms in the air. "You've had a tremendous amount to deal with recently, both physically and emotionally... a lot coming at you at once. Don't be ashamed to ask for help when you need it."

Martin pulled at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket covering his legs. "I uh... I've been thinking about something that Louisa asked me once... she was wondering why I thought my blood sensitivity had reappeared. She seemed to think she could be the cause. When I saw how James reacted to her the other day... how she calmed him... reassured him, it made me wonder if she _is_ the reason all of this is happening. Why I'm remembering things now."

"What do you mean by that, Martin?"

"She calms me... makes me feel secure. Maybe I hadn't remembered these things before because it didn't feel safe to do so... now it does."

"You _have_ been doing a lot of thinking, haven't you," said Dr. Newell looking at his patient incredulously.

"Like I said, I haven't been sleeping well. I have plenty of time to think."

"Well, I'm glad that you're making good use of your time! I agree... that could very well be true, Martin. You've had a lot to get your head around and I doubt you could have dealt with all of this if you didn't have the emotional support that your wife can provide you with... and to some extent, your aunt as well."

The therapist glanced at his watch. "Well, I better get back to my office. I'll stop back in a few days and pick up those books and journals. You'll call me if you'd like to talk before then, right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Dr. Newell walked to the door and put his hand on the knob before turning to address his patient. "Well done, Martin," he said as he left the room.

"Mm, yes."

Martin spent the rest of the morning either scanning the literature that his therapist had left with him, or napping. Sleep came in the form of brief interludes, dovetailed between the morality plays that were his nightmares.

Tim Spalding stopped in late in the morning to work primarily with Martin's legs.

"We need to work some more today on getting you ready for weight bearing later this week, probably on Saturday," said Tim as he repeated the exercises of the previous session with Martin's right leg.

"Mr. Christianson mentioned that your surgeons from Imperial may be down this weekend as well, I think they want to check out their handiwork."

"Oh, goody... an audience," Martin grumbled.

The therapist smiled at the pout on the face of the big man in front of him. "Aw, it won't be that bad, Dr. Ellingham. Think of them as your cheer squad."

Martin put on his finest scowl before grunting out a "Yeah, right."

"Okay, doctor. Let's work this left leg," Tim said as he moved to the other side of the bed.

The laceration on Martin's thigh had been causing him discomfort in the last days, and the physiotherapist's manipulations seemed to be exacerbating the problem. Martin was growing more and more agitated by both the young man's chatter and the rapidly worsening pain in his upper leg.

Tim began to regale Martin with tales of his recent trip to Africa, traveling with a group from Doctors Without Borders. Martin tried to tune out the chatter, but his head was now pounding and a sharp stabbing sensation had developed in his leg.

"Shut...up! I can't get a word in edgewise with you prattling on like that!" Martin exploded.

"Sorry Dr. Ellingham, what did you want to say?" the therapists said, knocked back on his heels.

Martin gritted his teeth as another jolt of pain shot through his thigh. "That my... bloody thigh hurts, that's what I wanted to say!" he said groaning and grabbing at his throbbing appendage.

"Alright, let's take a break and we'll ice that leg," Tim said as he hurried out the door to get the cold packs that he needed.

He returned quickly with his supplies and hurriedly wrapped his patients upper leg in the chilled, gel-filled pouches.

"I'm going to let you rest a bit, then I'll be back to see how you're doing."

Tim slipped from the room and called Mr. Christianson. Ed arrived a few minutes later and the two men returned to Martin's room together.

"How's it going, Martin? Having some pain in your thigh I hear," said Ed, pulling the blankets off Martin's legs and removing the ice packs that had been placed there by the therapist.

"Tell me about the pain... sharp, burning, has it been consistent?" Ed felt the area around the repaired laceration in his patient's thigh, eliciting a strong response.

"Jeez... that hurts!," Martin said as he slapped the surgeon's hand away, taking in a gasp of air.

Ed knitted his brow and tried to read Martin's face. "Yeah? Describe the pain for me."

"Burning consistently, but I get sharp stabbing pains."

"When did _this_ start?"

Martin ducked his head, "A few days ago."

Ed snorted out a breath of air, annoyed with his patient. "Martin, do you listen to me at all? I told you that you have to tell me when you're having pain!"

"I assumed it was post operative peripheral nerve pain and that it would pass... I didn't want anymore drugs," Martin said sheepishly.

"Alright genius, what exactly is it that you need to remain alert for at the moment?"

Martin huffed, "I'm trying to think some things through... figure some things out, and I have trouble with my memory when I'm getting a higher dose of morphine."

Ed stood pensively for a moment. "Alright, I hear ya. Well, I don't see any sign of infection."

"I could have told you that," Martin muttered.

The surgeon rolled his eyes at him and continued on. "How bout we put in a nerve block? I suspect that the severed nerves are healing, which is a good sign, but... until the wound heals more, it's going to be painful."

Martin nodded his head at the man. "Let's do the nerve block."

Martin was lightly sedated before an area in his groin was prepped for the procedure. Ed threaded a tiny catheter through the skin and inserted a needle, positioned to feed an anesthetic to the nerve bundle leading to his leg.

It was a quick and relatively simple procedure and when Martin woke a short while later he was much more comfortable. The fog left by the sedative had just begun to clear when he heard conversation in the hall outside his door. Martin groaned when he recognised a familiar voice.

"You can't go in there sir. Visitors have been restricted to immediate family unless approved by the patient," a nurse said.

"This is official police business ma'am," Joe Penhale said as he flashed her his badge, hurrying into Martin's room before she could say any more.

"Hello Doc!" Joe said, giving his 'friend' a broad grin.

Martin was at a distinct disadvantage with the sedative still clearing his system and had none of his usual snappy comebacks to offer.

"Penhale, what are you doing here?"

With a jangling rattle, Joe hoisted up his tool belt. "Here on a police matter and thought I'd drop by and keep you company for awhile!"

Martin felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Joe scrutinised the doctor's visible wounds, eyeing the brace on his arm with curiosity. He squatted down slightly to get a better look at the underside before taking a few steps towards the head of the bed, standing on his toes to see the top of the brace.

"That's quite a fancy contraption you've got there, doc!"

"It's a brace Penhale, keeps my shoulder from luxat... slipping out of the socket."

Joe wrinkled up his nose, "Doesn't sound like much fun."

"No, it's not much fun!" Martin said sharply. "Is there a purpose for your visit, Penhale?"

"Just here to keep you company... and I guess in my official capacity, as the person responsible for the safety of the citizens of our community, it's my duty to check up on you." Joe said as he hooked his thumbs over his belt.

"That's not the only reason I'm here, of course," he said, backpedaling. "You and me have a special relationship, don't we doc. You bein' in charge of keepin the village healthy and me bein' in charge of keepin' em safe an' all. Just here to cheer on the team... so to speak," the officer said, giving the doctor a hesitant pump of his fist.

"Oh gawd," Martin mumbled as the constable pulled up a chair and sat down.

"So... how are you feelin' Doc? A bit sore I bet?"

"What do you think, Penhale? I was hit by a lorry for god's sake!"

"You're lucky to be alive ya know. I've seen a few auto/lorry accidents in my line of work. It's not pretty."

"Not that _you_ aren't pretty... I mean you're _not_... pretty... you're quite a distinguished looking gentlemen, actually. Always nicely attired and all." Joe said, trying to soften his previous words.

"Penhale," Martin said, groaning out the constables name.

"Sorry, Doc." Joe fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "So, Mrs. Ellingham says you got kind of busted up in the accident, broke both your legs."

Martin heaved out a heavy breath, "Yes."

"Well, you just say the word if there's anything I can do to be of assistance... anything."

Martin blinked as a thought popped into his head. "There is something you could do... stop by and check up on the Hanleys for me. Make sure Mr. Hanley's abiding by the rules the SPCC laid out. Check on his children."

"Sure, doc."

"But, Penhale... be cautious. Hanley's a mean drunk."

"Sure, Doc."

"Um, Penhale, my wife told me that you were a big help to her the night of my accident. I want to thank you for that... for driving her over here."

Joe rose from his chair. "No problem. It's the least I could do for the other half of the dynamic duo!" The constable gave Martin a friendly but slightly too firm pat on his bad shoulder.

"Ow! Penhale!"

"Sorry there, Doc. You're pretty tender aren't you." Penhale said, looking the doctor up and down. "Kind of a mess actually."

Joe put his palms up in front of him. "No offense! I just mean... you're just a bit... they'll get you put right though, Doc. Eh?"

"Penhale!"

"I'll just be goin' then. Don't you worry about a thing, I'm holdin' down the fort while you're gone... so to speak."

"Yeah... right."


End file.
